The Serpent of Slytherin
by hpkiwi
Summary: A behind the scenes look at the Basilisk attacks in the second book/film. Sort of a mixture of the two. Also includes some of the Ginny/Tom s diary entries right before each attack. Rated T for some language and scenes of peril (O-B-V-I-O-U-S-L-Y). Yes, that was an Alan Rickman reference. Lots of character POVs.
1. Curiosity petrifies the cat

The Serpent of Slytherin

_NB: This story incorporates segments of both the novel's and the movie's sequence of events. Don't be confused!_

_Prologue_

_The night before Halloween:_

_The giant rat paused, sniffing, at the tunnel that provided much needed fresh air in this underground cavern. Many hundreds of feet above, he could sniff the gentle evening breeze wafting through the cave entrance. It was sunset, but light did not penetrate far into this cavern located directly under Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The only source was through this narrow cave entrance. A portal straight up into the rugged school grounds near the Whomping Willow and Hagrid's cabin._

_There were many rats that thrived in the damp, unhygienic, dark and humid cavern that Salazar Slytherin had modified nearly a thousand years before to build his secret Chamber. Many small animals had become trapped and expired for unknown reasons in this cavern. Life was easy if you were a rat, and nothing and no-one had disturbed the peace for nearly 50 years. _

_The rat decided he wanted to do his exploration for food outside tonight. Sometimes the opportunities for scavengers became slim, and tonight was such a night. He began his long climb over hundreds of yards of broken, craggy rock, finally reaching the top many minutes later. He failed to notice the door at the far end of the cavern below with many stone snakes on it change its shape. The snakes began to move, and the door slowly crept open._

_The Chamber of Secrets was open again._

_Once outside, the rat sat on his haunches and began to lick his front paws. He was so engrossed by the fresh air around Hogwarts, the sight of the Great Hall lit up for the evening feast, and his paw, licking, that he failed to notice the tens of thousands of small spiders streaming up the cave tunnel, past him, and all moving in a tight band in the direction of Hagrid's cabin, and beyond, the reassuring cover of the Forbidden Forest._

_He failed to notice the shadow fall over the grass at the cave entrance, and had no time to respond when a massive set of jaws grabbed him from above and from behind, impaling him on its massive teeth shining with venom, and swallowed him whole._

_The mysterious monster retreated back into the safety of its underground lair, beginning to digest its meal of rat. _

_The objective had been completed. _

_It was game on for a year of terror for Hogwarts._

**The next evening:**

It was over three and a half hours into Harry's detention, and Lockhart had apparently noticed that Harry's productivity had declined significantly. He had answered only five of Lockhart's pile of hundreds of letters in the last hour, and Lockhart had noticed the lack of activity. Harry had simply paused for five minutes without doing any work. It was nearing the end of a long day. He and the Gryffindor team had had an unwelcome altercation with the Slytherin team, an incident that had resulted in Draco Malfoy's cruel "Mudblood" insult flung at Hermione, and Ron's furious retaliation, which had literally backfired and had him vomiting slugs all afternoon. Harry grinned at a thought he had. Come to think of it, his two best friends were exhibiting some curious behavior towards each other- all of it revolving around Lockhart.

Now, he was doing his penance for crashing the flying Ford Anglia into the Whomping Willow on September 1st. Two floors below him, in the dungeons, Ron was doing the exact same with Filch- polishing trophies. Hermione had done her best to stamp out the slug-eating spell, but at seven thirty, one slug still was still coming out every ten minutes or so- infuriating Filch.

Ron had told him that he thought Ginny had begun acting oddly over the last week or so. Stress no doubt, he had said. She for some reason had darted off during yesterday evening's feast to an out-of order toilet block on the First Floor and did not emerge for nearly half an hour. She had done the same tonight, but Ron had decided not to tell Percy or Fred and George before heading off for his detention. He'd decided to cut her a bit of slack- it was her first year after all.

Harry's train of thought was interrupted by Lockhart's airy, self-confident voice.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. Could you possibly imagine a better way to serve detention, than by helping me to answer my fan mail?"

"Not really," he replied.

"Fame is a fickle-friend Harry. Celebrity is, as celebrity does, remember that."

The oil lamp on Lockhart's desk slowly burned lower, and Harry paused absent-mindedly, half-thinking about events of that day, and of that bizarre, seemingly nonsensical comment that Lockhart had made. Distantly, he heard a vague, distant sound he'd barely detected, hidden under Lockhart's vain commentary. He slowly looked up as the candlelight burned lower. It was a vague slithering sound coming from far above and far behind him. His eyes widened as he heard a cold, menacing voice, capable of chilling even the bravest Gryffindor's bone marrow, faint at first, but moving somewhat closer, and becoming clearer.

_Come, come…..to me…Come to ME!_

Harry looked up at the ceiling, trying to track the source and movement of the disembodied voice, and his eyes widened, as with each pause, he heard a progressively louder slithering sound. His eyes widened further.

"What?" he questioned out loud.

"Sorry?" said Lockhart half-mindedly, a vaguely smug expression still on his face.

Harry pulled his eyes down from the ceiling. He tried to hear the voice again, but couldn't- the moment was gone. "That voice," he said, mouth half-ajar.

"Voice?" queried Lockhart, looking genuinely nonplussed.

"Didn't you hear it?" Harry asked incredulously.

"What are you talking about Harry?" Lockhart asked, still puzzled. "I think we're getting a bit er…." He grinned. "…drowsy." He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. "And…great Scott! No wonder! Look at the time, we've been here nearly four hours. Spooky, how the time flies when one's having fun, eh?" He grinned again as he dismissed Harry.

But Harry looked again at the very spot on the ceiling from where he'd last heard that venomous voice. "Spooky," he repeated absent-mindedly.

Yes, spooky definitely described the scene, all right, he thought.

...

In the Gryffindor Common Room, Fred and George were in high spirits. The fire was burning away happily, and they had decided, while no-one was around, to pull out their prized trophy- the Marauders' Map, which they'd nicked from a furious Argus Filch in their first year. Filch was still trying to find that map to no avail.

George opened the map and began searching for his siblings.

"Look there's Ron," he said, grinning at Ron's dot standing in the dungeons with Filch, still yet to complete his detention. They also saw Harry, in detention with Lockhart in the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office.

Fred also picked up Ginny, slowly making her way out of the girls' bathroom, which, they knew, was haunted by Moaning Myrtle, a most depressed and depressing bespectacled ghost who had died while still at Hogwarts many decades beforehand. They saw her pause by an adjacent wall for about a minute, before moving back towards the feast, which was slowly coming to an end.

"Look, Ron's now out of detention," Fred reported to George. The twins both watched Ron's dot beat a hasty retreat away from Filch and up towards the Great Hall. They noticed a dot detach itself from a whole line of Gryffindors including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and Oliver Wood. The dot labelled 'Hermione Granger' moved away from the Great Hall, and met with Ron's dot. Close together, both dots headed down the stairs past the Great Hall towards Lockhart's classroom. George pinched Fred.

"Ow. What was that for you silly clot?"

"Look at Ron, the sly git," George said, pointing to the pair. "What's the bet the pair of them are arguing their heads off like an old married couple?" He grinned at Fred, who broke into an identically evil grin.

"Aah," he sighed overdramatically, clutching a hand to his chest. "Yong love."

"You honestly think our silly clot of a brother who can't tell one end of a Cleansweep Seven from another would fall for the super-smart bookworm?" George asked, shaking his head. "If you're right, then the Chudley Cannons will finish top of the league this year."

"Then what about the time Hermione was going weak at the knees because of that blue-robed git in Flourish and Blotts? Honestly, the only time I've seen Ron more annoyed was after we turned his teddy bear into a spider!"

Fred snorted with laughter, remembering that glorious prank, before challenging George.

"Five Galleons?"

"Why not?"

"Well, we now know how to blackmail him if we don't get first dibs on Chocolate Frogs."

They were so focused on their prey, that they didn't notice another dot appear by the First Floor toilets.

After another minute of banter as to whether or not their brother's relationship with Hermione was entirely platonic, Fred interjected.

"What the bloody hell is that?"

He was pointing to the dot still lurking around the toilets. It was marked 'Basilisk'.

"Dunno."

Fred and George didn't have time to further ponder this mysterious arrival, because there was a rustle outside the portrait hole.

George quickly whipped out his wand, whispered "Mischief Managed" and the ink on the map slowly faded to parchment colour. Unseen to the twins, a dot labelled 'Mrs. Norris' was now climbing the stairs to the first floor, pausing to sniff here and there.

The dots were on a collision course, before they vanished from the parchment.

Neville Longbottom entered, just in from the feast. "Hello Neville," Fred said, trying to stuff the now-disguised map into his pocket, but Neville noticed.

"What's that?"

"Potions homework," Fred lied. Neville looked decidedly unconvinced.

"Rubbish," he snorted. "You two never do homework."

"Well, we have to do Potions homework roughly once a month, just to ensure that greasy-haired slimeball doesn't drown us in our cauldrons," George pointed out straight-faced.

Neville laughed.

"Okay, just kidding, we're trying to figure out how best to blackmail our brother. Nothing out of the ordinary."

The portrait hole opened again to admit Dean, Seamus and Oliver.

"Exploding Snap you four?" Fred asked as he pulled out his cards. All the boys joined in. It was Halloween- most definitely not a time to do late homework.

Meanwhile, the mystery of that dot remained, forgotten. Neither twin would remember it the next day when they woke up to hear there was an attack.

**Curiosity petrifies the cat**

Mrs. Norris was nosy by nature. Apparently magically connected to her master, she always had had a knack of coming across students right when they were in the middle of a misdeed. She had even seemingly detected Harry under the invisibility cloak when he was going to see the Mirror of Erised.

Now, she was on the prowl, looking out for that first-year student with red hair who had been acting suspiciously just a few minutes ago on the First Floor corridor. That corridor was rapidly becoming sopping wet from water flowing out from the haunted bathroom Filch had instructed her never to enter because of a ghost by the name of Moaning Myrtle. The girl, even from fifty feet away, smelled like paint. The cat sniffed the air, and followed her back down to the feast. Her hands, although she didn't seem to know it, were bright scarlet.

A creaking noise from the wall to her right distracted her as she neared the Entrance Hall. The groaning, seemingly from the large concrete drainage and sewer pipes that spread to every corner of the castle, continued along the corridor, back up the stairs, and towards the flooded corridor. She followed at a trot, aware that the caretaker would still be in the dungeons with yet another rebellious red-headed student.

As she rounded the corner quickly, she came across yet more water. Moaning Myrtle was in a full tantrum then. Infuriated at the mess that her master would have to clean up, the cat gathered pace, running towards the source of the water. It was flowing in masses from under the door. Mrs. Norris paused and sniffed the air.

Something very fishy was going on here.

The noise had returned. She crouched, and took a sniff under the door.

The sinks in the bathroom had separated from each other, and pouring out of the resulting gap, hanging vertically upwards gracefully as it did so was something with greenish-grey, scaled skin, and at least a foot wide. She couldn't see its head, but knew this unwelcome creature was dangerous. She hissed angrily and retreated about twenty metres back down the corridor. Smelling paint, she turned.

Written in scarlet, blood like paint, a message was written on the wall.

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HIER… BEWARE._

Mrs. Norris couldn't read English, but she knew a threatening message when she saw one. Infuriated at this menacing graffiti, she began to trot away to find Filch.

A hiss made her turn around. The water on this part of the floor was only a few millimetres thick, but it was enough to reflect any movement on the ceiling above. A ripple of movement reflected in the water caught the cat's eye. She stared at it for a split second.

Two yellow dots were suddenly reflected in the water. With a final yowl, Mrs. Norris stiffened, rigid as a board, and fell sideways to the ground, landing with a soft splash as she did so.

Ahead of her nose, two large scorch marks had appeared in the floor, seared into the stonework by a deadly gaze from an embroidered arch high above.

Her stalker disappeared from view again, making a loud splash as it retreated towards its lair.

Thirty seconds later, a pair of shaking, first year hands picked her limp body up, and hung her by the tail from a torch bracket. Those hands, covered in paint, continued to shake as their owner fled the scene, carrying a diary.

Ten seconds after that, Harry, Ron and Hermione appeared halfway along the corridor, close to the ominous message.

**Harry's point of view- five minutes earlier.**

Harry walked along a deserted dark corridor, his thoughts in a blur, mostly about that murderous voice he had just heard. What scared him most about the whole experience was that Lockhart didn't even notice it. He was genuine Lockhart was telling the truth. He had looked as if Harry should've been sent off to the Hospital Wing for insanity.

Then, heart pounding, he heard it again, sounding more dangerous than ever. He paused to listen, the lack of lighting casting unusual shadows playing against the walls. He swore one pillar even looked like a hooded cobra for a fraction of a second.

_Blood, I smell blood. Let me rip you_, it breathed, icy cold from a spot slightly behind Harry. _Let me kill you…_ The voice tailed off into a rattling hiss, and Harry decided it must be issuing from the wall beside him. Feeling the wall as he went, he pushed on.

_Kill, kill, KILL! _

Each time, it got progressively louder, and Harry heard- no-felt a slithering vibration underneath his hand. Becoming increasingly agitated, he sped up, racing the voice from torch bracket to torch bracket….

…only to nearly collide with Ron and Hermione, bickering as per usual.

"My behavior doesn't excuse that git putting me to work doing Muggle labour!" Ron complained as Hermione rolled her eyes. "And to make things worse, I kept vomiting slugs over the Special Awards trophy of some bloke called Tom Riddle, who looked twice as insufferable as Percy!"

Hermione laughed, looked up and saw a wide-eyed Harry grape-vining along the wall, from time to time touching it.

"Harry," she smiled.

But Harry wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

"Did you hear it?"

"Hear what?" asked a very puzzled Ron, slightly annoyed at the change in atmosphere.

"That voice," Harry responded, with a sense of déjà-vu.

All traces of a smile left Hermione's face. Looking around wildly, wide-eyed, she asked "Voice? What voice?"

Still straining to hear the next words from the voice, Harry looked around once, saying, with a tense edge to his voice "I heard it first in Lockhart's office and then again just…" His words tailed off as he heard a hiss further down the corridor and a final sentence, fading to an ominous rattle.

_It's time…_

"It's moving," Harry said of the rapidly-fading voice, staring past Ron and Hermione's heads. "I think it's going to kill."

"Kill?" enquired Ron, but Harry had already begun running along the corridor.

Hermione turned and chased Harry's disappearing figure, calling out cautiously "Harry, wait! Not so fast!" Ron followed suit.

Harry stepped out onto the First Floor corridor, noticing the floor was soppy. He turned and ran in the direction he had last heard any suspicious sound, Hermione and Ron racing behind him at full speed.

Harry stopped and peered at a formation of spiders scuttling out a missing tile in a coloured window, out into the night air.

"Strange," he said to his friends now behind him, watching too. "I've never seen spiders act like that."

Ron shuddered, and said, in a voice that had gone up an octave, "I don't like spiders." Hermione looked at him sideways, half frowning with both irritation and seeming amusement at this newly-revealed phobia.

Ron, wanting to change the subject, turned and noticed and revealed an unusual reflection in the water. "What's this?" The trio turned their gaze upwards at the message Mrs. Norris had seen barely two minutes beforehand.

Hermione read out the message. "It's written in blood." She grimaced at the sight of it.

But Harry had seen something even more terrifying. Mrs. Norris was suspended by her tail from a torch bracket, completely motionless, except perhaps for a vague breathing movement. "Oh no," he exclaimed as he walked towards her.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other as if thinking of fleeing the scene, but before they could ask Harry his opinion, they heard a commotion. Dozens of students, heading back to their dormitories, were approaching them from all three directions, gasping at the sight of the message, the trio, and most of all, the motionless cat.

Among them was Draco Malfoy. Grinning like he had won a million Galleons, he pushed forwards to the front of the crowd. "_Enemies of the Heir… beware_?" he read out. He turned to stare directly at Hermione. "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Ron's right hand curled into a fist.

But Harry was staring at Mrs. Norris' glassy eyes, trying to comprehend what exactly had hit her.

**I have to say, I wondered if the Marauder's Map could show the Basilisk. Also, anyone note some minor references to the original crime scene in the novel? Poor Mrs. Norris. Next, Colin has an unexpected meeting in the dark with Slytherin's pet.**


	2. Colin Creevey

The Serpent of Slytherin

_Part Two: Colin Creevey_

_November 7__th__ 1992._

Colin Creevey now literally had hundreds of photographs of his first couple of months at Hogwarts. He, with Ginny Weasley's help, had dipped some of his photos in Snape's supply of the Draught of Living Death at the end of potions when Snape had his back turned. After two hours, with a single flick of the wand, the pictures began to move. At least fifty of them were photographs of Harry Potter, and all of those that had been developed showed Harry trying to shove himself out of the frame. Some of them were photos in the Gryffindor Common Room with Colin's face in the foreground and Harry, unaware he was on film, in the background. Such photos were many years later referred to by Muggles as selfies, and Colin had taken heaps. The one he prided most on was the signed photograph of Harry with Gilderoy Lockhart, a man Colin had initially hero-worshipped almost as vigorously as Harry. Lockhart was battling valiantly to keep Harry in frame, but was largely unsuccessful. Colin had to laugh- the Boy Who Lived clearly wasn't taking any nonsense from even Lockhart, let alone Draco Malfoy, whose sneer at Colin had only got wider after Pansy Parkinson reminded him that Colin was a Mudblood at breakfast.

There were many other photos too, many embarrassing, such as Ron's decrepit owl Errol smashing into Ron's breakfast cereal and sending Hermione's pumpkin juice flying when delivering Ron his Howler. The Howler was on film too. So was Colin almost getting decapitated by Malfoy, Harry, and the Rogue Bludger in quick succession. So was the Rogue Bludger attack. So was Mrs. Norris, petrified. So was the blood-like message. So was Harry, lying injured on the ground after Hermione had blown the attacking Bludger up. So was Lockhart running over. So was Harry's arm after Lockhart's 'help', boneless and floppy as a flobberworm. So was Colin and Ginny in Potions class, the former outstanding, the other blundering after focusing too much on his camerawork. So was Professor Snape, who upon noticing the unwelcome Muggle contraption had given him a late-night detention cutting up Boomslang skin and taken fifty points from Gryffindor.

Colin's latest photos however, had crossed a line. Harry had repeatedly insisted on no photos as he lay there, injured on the Quidditch Pitch. The camera's continuing _click, click, click_ had earned Colin dirty looks from Ron and Hermione, Fred, George, Oliver Wood and Ginny. The latter had actually yelled at him- "Stop it- don't you see he's injured?" as she nervously bent over Lockhart's shoddy work with Harry's arm.

Now, after Harry had been carted off to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey had given Harry as much Skele-Gro as he could bear, it was time for Transfiguration at three p.m., then Snape's detention at nine p.m. Ginny still hadn't completely forgiven him for his nosy lenswork, although they both laughed loudly in Transfiguration at Lockhart's ineptitude at fixing broken arms, something that forced Professor McGonagall to give both of them a yelling and a threatened double-detention.

After the feast, Colin was lounging in the Gryffindor Common Room animatedly showing everyone his pictures, and discussing worriedly with Fred, George and Angelina Johnson how long Harry would be in the Hospital Wing.

"Only one night," Fred told him reassuringly.

"So you're only safe for a few more hours. If Harry's in an especially foul mood, I bet you anything he'll petrify you tomorrow morning," George added, causing all four to split their sides laughing.

"No, no," chortled Fred. "The Heir of Slytherin will petrify Lockhart first, mark my words."

"No doubt Madam Pomfrey for once will be grateful to Harry, as will McGonagall, they were furious," George chimed in, causing all four to suffer yet another bellyache.

"Then again, given the way our young sister yelled at you today, she'd probably attack you if she could," Fred added, turning to give Ginny a wink. Flushing, she ran upstairs to her dormitory, diary in hand. Opening it on her bed, she sat there, thinking of how poor Harry had been injured, followed up by the humiliation for him of having that idiot Lockhart removing all of the bones in his arm. She thought of Colin and his camera.

Especially Colin and his camera. She began to write: _Dear Tom…._

_..._

Colin saw the time on the clock on the mantelpiece. It was nearly time to head off to Snape's detention. "Well," he said chirpily, his blond mousy curls bobbing, "almost time to head off. Who knows, I might even see Harry tonight after detention."

"OK then. But if Harry's not there, he'll be in the Chamber of Secrets having a cup of tea with his fanged servant, you know that, right?" George said, grinning evilly.

"I'm surprised you haven't invited Ginny along tonight," Fred leaned forward, also grinning. "You two could start the Harry Potter Fan Club."

"And in case you start to fancy our little sister instead of Harry…."

"She's absolutely infatuated with Harry already…."

"So bad luck mate….try someone else when you're older."

Colin, still grinning, turned to the Portrait hole.

"Hey!" Fred interjected jokingly. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Colin, thinking he was serious, turned, scooped up his camera and his hundreds of photos, and stuffed them into his wand pocket. "Good idea, I'll take a few pictures tonight. I'll start sending them by owl to Mum and Dad tomorrow. Although it might not be a good idea to include the petrified cat and Harry's Bludger injury," he smiled, waving at them as he stepped out into the abandoned corridor.

Especially the petrified cat, he thought.

...

It was now in the early hours of the morning, and Colin left the darkened dungeons and walked along the dark passages of the castle to the Great Hall. Sneaking in, he grabbed a leftover bowl of grapes, and popped one into his mouth. Still holding the bowl, and with his camera now in his other hand, he snuck off.

He was enroute to the Hospital Wing.

**Harry's POV**

Harry, feeling a sharp pain in his arm where his thirty-three bones were re-growing, woke with a start. A shadow had briefly fallen over the Hospital Wing entrance. He heard….footsteps, slowly fading away. That was good, clearly just a Professor out on night patrol. No bloodthirsty voice to be heard. Smiling as he thought of how not only Ron but also Hermione were risking expulsion by brewing Polyjuice Potion, he slowly let sleep wash over him again. In a few hours, they would begin brewing it in Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom, and within a few weeks, they would know if Malfoy was behind the attack on Mrs. Norris.

_Five minutes later_

The voice echoed through the empty Hospital Wing:

_Kill…._rustle….._ KILL!_

Harry's eyes flew open at the second word, followed up by another slithering movement of body against stone. Now fully awake, he looked around. Eerie shadows were being cast outside the Hospital Wing entrance from the poor lighting. Madam Pomfrey, clearly not hearing the ruckus coming from the Hospital Wing ceiling, did not come running in from her office.

The ceiling….Harry looked up at the stone ceiling with wooden rafters. He swear he could hear the source of the noise circulating in the ceiling, in a motion that was almost snakelike. More bloodthirsty words followed.

_Time….to kill…_

Harry reached for his glasses, putting them on and staring as the rustling of smooth body against stone began to move, dipping towards the ground. It was followed by a rattling hiss so bloodthirsty he felt the hairs on his neck raise on end.

_KIIIIILLLLLLL…. _It now sounded as if the voice was right outside the door, in the corridor outside. Harry pulled his gaze down from the ceiling to meet….

….a pair of orb-like eyes, and bat-like ears.

"Hello!" greeted Dobby over-enthusiastically.

Harry jumped about a foot off his bed. Looking around furiously for any sighting of the source of the voice with a deadly appetite, he pulled his gaze back to Dobby, furious that the elf had ruined any chance of hearing anything further. "Dobby?" he hissed angrily.

"Harry Potter should have listened to Dobby! Harry Potter should have gone home when he missed the train!"

...

Colin Creevey continued to walk along the corridor, being careful to not make too much sound as to awake the teachers. He was now barely a hundred metres from the Hospital Wing. Little did he know he was being tracked.

The….thing that was tracking him couldn't see him yet, but that was unnecessary. His sweat of excitement at seeing Harry Potter, barely detectable to human noses, was like a beacon to this creature. It was able to be smelt _inside the wall._ His footsteps too, sounded through the corridor like a klaxon. The creature, so longing for bigger prey, was coming closer...

Colin heard a rustle as he neared the final small set of stairs. He didn't see the wall just above them start to vibrate slightly. He did however hear a pop, and a grate with iron bars hiding some sort of pipe swing open, and he saw movement as some sort of creature tenderly pushed it aside, taking care to not cause a racket as it pushed its nose past the railing. Colin couldn't see anything of its face- it was shrouded in darkness. He had heard of Harry's encounter with a three—headed dog last year.

Was it yet another creature hidden at Hogwarts? It was too good an opportunity to pass. More of the creature's body slithered out of the entrance and moved towards the stairs as Colin, balancing the bowl of grapes gently in his left hand, slowly lifted his camera hanging around his neck with his right. Just then, the subject of his gaze raised its head and poked its face briefly into a patch of moonlight, staring straight at him.

This was a photo that his parents would never get to see.

Colin now had the camera balanced awkwardly in his hands. He stared through the viewfinder and aimed his lens at the source of the movement.

Two faint yellow dots were visible through the viewfinder. A flash of golden eyes in the darknesss…

The light seared through the camera lens, right into the startled Muggleborn's eyes, frying the fragile Muggle film inside. Colin flinched as he suddenly felt his body go cold and all muscle inputs left him.

The bowl of grapes fell to the floor and shattered. His finger, now a dead weight on the trigger button with nothing to hold it back, brushed it as it fell. There was a click from the Polaroid lens and blinding light as the flash fired, illuminating the horrific scene. Colin fell backwards, his eyes partially rolling back in their sockets as his head hit the ground with a sickening smack. The rest of his immobilized body made an unusually loud impact, like a block of concrete being dropped on the floor. The camera sat in his motionless hands, its lens smoking slightly. The hundreds of pictures fell out of his pocket and covered the cold stone floor.

The monster, startled at the flash of light, paused. Still hungry, it was reeling from the unexpected surprise its prey had pulled out. That…weapon could be dangerous even now. It moved forwards slowly, approaching the unfortunate boy, but paused as it heard footsteps. Time to leave. It retreated, most of its body still inside the tunnel. The footsteps tuned a corner, and Colin's attacker picked up the grate with a loose grip from its teeth, and slid it back into place as it fled the scene, fuming at the loss of a potential meal.

...

Albus Dumbledore appeared on the scene, humming to himself. His stomach rumbled as he headed off to accept a steaming hot chocolate from the kind house elves in the kitchen downstairs two corridors away. He paused as he heard a somewhat suspicious sound coming from the wall to his right. It was almost certainly nothing, he thought, but whipped out his wand nevertheless. With an effortless flick of his wand, a giant silver Phoenix erupted out of it, and flew down the corridor in the direction of Minerva McGonagall's office.

...

Professor McGonagall was tending to a letter from Percy about Ginny's unusual behavior and symptoms of the flu- she had seen Ginny was appearing in class pale and shaken herself. First year was always though, especially if you were the youngest in a large family, she thought, before filing the letter and thinking of going to bed. It was just after one a.m.

A ball of light flew through the wall and hovered six inches off the floor, and Dumbledore spoke.

"Minerva, will you check this out? Something's suspicious near the Hospital Wing." The Patronus vanished as Professor McGonagall hurried out of the office, wand tip illuminated.

She had just hurried past the Great Hall, and ran up the stairs towards the Hospital Wing. She paused and gasped as she saw a shattered bowl of grapes, and worst of all, a pale, motionless body on the ground. One of hers.

First instinct was to check for a pulse. There was one, albeit very weak and slow. McGonagall felt a small dose of relief at the realization that Colin Creevey was still alive. He must have become petrified like Mrs. Norris. But where had the attacker come from?

"Albus?" she called out, and Dumbledore lit his wand, running over to the petrified boy lying at the foot of the stairs, still holding the camera with a death grip. Dumbledore nodded, then conjured a stretcher and levitated Colin onto it. Both he and McGonagall picked up the stretcher and began to carry it the short distance to the Hospital Wing.

...

Harry heard a distant thump, followed soon after by the sound of a door opening.

Dobby jumped onto his bed, gesticulating at the noise.

"Listen. Listen! Terrible things are about to happen at Hogwarts. Harry Potter must not stay here, now that history is to repeat itself."

"Repeat itself," hissed Harry. "You mean this has happened before?"

"Uh, I shouldn't have said that." Dobby seized the Skele-Gro, and began smacking it against his head like a baseball bat. "Bad Dobby!"

But Harry had seen this before, at the Dursleys'. Grabbing the elf by his pillowcase-turned toga and shaking him threateningly, he demanded some answers. "Tell me Dobby. When did this happen before? Who's doing it now?"

"Dobby cannot say sir. Dobby only wants Harry Potter to remain safe."

"No Dobby, tell me."

But Dobby took a quick glance behind him and with a click of his fingers, faded into sparkling dust and was gone.

Two large shadows were approaching the entrance to the Hospital Wing. Harry threw himself under his covers, glasses still on, and looked and listened.

It was Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, carrying a statue-like figure onto a bed. Madam Pomfrey came running over from her office.  
>"What just happened?"<p>

"There's been another attack," whispered Dumbledore gravely as he bent over the prone figure of Colin Creevey, his face carved like granite. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"It was just a good thing that Albus was on his way downstairs for hot chocolate, otherwise who knows what might…."

McGonagall shifted her gaze from the boy's face to the camera beside him. "Perhaps he managed to take a picture of his attacker?"

Dumbledore gently prized the camera from Colin's death grip, revealing his forehead still frozen in a frown of concentration as he aimed his camera some minutes beforehand. He opened the back of the camera, and was met with a loud flash, an explosion and a jet of smoke and acrid steam. Madam Pomfrey let out a small squeak of surprise, and Harry could smell the fumes from his bed.

Startled, McGonagall asked, her voice shaking "What can this mean, Albus?"

"It means…" Dumbledore said, his beard illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows "…that young Mr. Creevey is fortunate to be alive. Without this, he would surely be dead." He waved his hands at the charred camera interior.

"Our students are in grave danger. It is as we feared Minerva. The Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened, again."

**Dumbledore's non-canon line here was in the first COS draft script. I loved Fred and George's jokes about Harry being the Heir of Slytherin so much I shifted their line slightly. BTW, that's not the last you've seen of Ginny and that diary...**

**Next...Justin has a surprise waiting around the corner...**


	3. Justin Finch-Fletchley

The Serpent of Slytherin

_Part three: Justin Finch-Fletchley_

_December 18__th__, 1992_

_Justin turned a corner. There was Nearly-Headless Nick, pearly-white as ever. "Hello Mr. Finch Fletch…" he began, before a shadow fell behind him on his left. It was Harry, green eyes blazing evilly. Both Justin and Nick turned to see what he was gazing at. It was slithering towards their corridor…_

_And then, the largest snake Justin had ever seen rounded the corridor from Nick's right. It stared at its prey- Justin himself. It hissed menacingly at him- a sound full of hunger. _

_And then Justin heard Harry speak Parseltongue to the snake. He could only hear hissing, but knew in his heart what Harry was saying. _

"_Kill the Mudblood."_

_Nick rushed out of the way, fleeing the scene to call for help, but Justin sat rooted to the spot with terror. The snake was coming closer. Thirty feet. Twenty… ten…_

_The snake leaned backwards, then struck at Justin, its mouth widening to swallow him whole…._

Justin Finch-Fletchley woke in his Hufflepuff dormitory with a start. His entire night had been punctuated with a nightmare- of a giant snake, ten times the size of the one Malfoy had conjured yesterday at the Dueling Club, goaded on by Harry. He was completely suspicious of Harry's intentions with the snake yesterday. No doubt about it- Harry was terrorizing him by setting Malfoy's snake onto him- the second-year Hufflepuff Muggleborn. He felt a pang of regret as he remembered casually letting slip his Blood Status to Harry.

The fact that one of Harry's best friends, Hermione Granger, was Muggleborn, did not penetrate his mind, still reeling from the encounter yesterday.

Justin began to make his way down for breakfast early, but stopped. His best friend, Ernie Macmillan, now asleep two beds from him, had explicitly warned him to stay in the Hufflepuff dormitory, in case Harry summoned the Monster of Slytherin, whatever it was. His thoughts wandered back to the horrible nightmare he just had. No, he thought, he'd follow Ernie's advice and stay away from any part of the castle, especially when he was by himself. His fellow dormitory friends would simply sneak him back some toast from breakfast.

...

Harry should have been enjoying the last week until Christmas. There had thankfully been no more attacks since Colin- over five weeks, and the Polyjuice Potion, according to Hermione, was now almost complete. Only a week until they interrogated Malfoy about his involvement in the attacks. He should have felt buzzing over how he saved Justin from that menacing snake yesterday, but he wasn't.

The whispering surrounding his involvement in the first two attacks had barely died down, and now it was back with a vengeance, all because of his Parseltongue abilities. Already, bets were on at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall over how many hours would it be until Harry attempted to attack Justin. Talking of which, he really needed to see Justin, and explain to him he'd ordered the snake to stop, not attack.

He'd attempted to find Justin in the Library, but all he'd got was an elevated pulse and anger throbbing in his veins as Ernie Macmillan accused him of attacking Muggleborns.

"_I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"_

"_I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with," said Ernie swiftly._

"_It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them. I'd like to see you try it."_

Even Ron and Hermione were giving him the cold shoulder. Not so much in that they were scared he'd attack them, but more they were getting miffed with Harry's angst over trying to find Justin, to explain things over. "For goodness sake Harry," Hermione had said exasperatedly, "Go and _find_ Justin if it's so important to you." She and Ron had become immersed into their sixth game of Wizarding Chess that morning- an unusually high number. Then again, a blizzard was howling outside, and their last Herbology lesson for the term had been cancelled as a result. Ginny had sat in the armchair opposite their table in the Common Room, writing out her views on the last 24 hours in her little black diary. No doubt she would think just like the rest of them that he was meaning Justin ill, Harry thought, angry for the umpteenth time that morning.

Little did Harry know Ginny had understood every word he'd uttered the previous day.

There had been just one positive development in the morning. Fred and George, merry as ever and obviously not tolerating any snide remarks behind Harry's back, had marched Harry down to breakfast as if he'd won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin….move or he'll petrify you….Excuse me, seriously evil wizard coming through." The result had been a telling-off by Percy, and several dirty looks thrown by Hufflepuffs.

Now, it was almost time for the trio to head down to the study room opened and supervised by Professor McGonagall on the Fourth Floor.

...

Harry had spent the last hour doing exactly zero study. He had given up trying to find Justin today, and convinced himself he'd try and get another shot at explaining his actions the previous day. But this wasn't what had irked him the most.

Every single Hufflepuff student, including Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, was staring at Harry suspiciously throughout, sometimes reserving Ron or Hermione a dirty glance for daring to sit next to him. Even Neville had succumbed to the silent peer-pressure, heading back to the Gryffindor Common Room some five minutes beforehand.

Harry pulled his eyes away from the Hufflepuff table to instead look at his friends' reactions. Hermione gave him a half-sympathetic, half-exasperated grimace that clearly said _ignore them_, before returning to her Transfiguration study. Ron, who had fared almost as poorly as Harry in his study however, looked at Harry with a shrug of the shoulders, then slumped back, looking fatigued. Being Harry's friend right now was taking its toll on both of them.

Another glance from the Hufflepuff table. Harry cracked. He stood up.

"See you back in the Common Room," he said. Ron and Hermione paused, their quills hovering in mid-air, and staring at him slightly apprehensively. The Hufflepuffs turned, as did every student in the room. Even Professor McGonagall paused to stare at his departure for a second or two.

Just before Harry left the room behind him, he saw Ernie lean in to whisper something to his table. No doubt implicating him. Harry didn't want to hear. He pressed on.

...

Justin Finch-Fletchley had cracked. Seven hours cooped up like a toddler had taken its toll. He needed to stretch his legs, and had walked out from his dormitory, unsupervised. He had bumped into Neville as the round-faced boy tried to find his toad Trevor on a corridor above. After helping Neville find Trevor, he'd impulsively asked him:

"Where's Potter? I want to talk to him about yesterday."

"Oh, he'll still be in the study room with Ron and Hermione on the Fourth Floor. I doubt he's behind it all, but you'll be pleased to know your friends are there too."

Justin thanked Neville. He was still suspicious about Harry Potter, but on the other hand, he'd been very courteous towards him before the snake incident. Could he really be the Heir of Slytherin? There was only one way- to talk to him, preferably with people around. He descended some stairs to the Sixth Floor.

This was a big mistake.

...

Harry had climbed a small set of stairs away from the brightly-lit Fourth Floor, head still spinning and had bumped into Hagrid, swinging a dead rooster and covered in snow from the ferocious storm outside.

"Hello Harry. You all righ'?"

"Hagrid…" Harry paused, staring at the rooster. "What are you doing here?"

Hagrid held up the rooster. "Second one killed this term. Reckon it's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear. Need Dumbledore's permission ter put a little charm aroun' the ol' hen coop." He paused, looking at Harry's red face and slight sweat on his face. "You sure you're all right? You look all hot an' bothered."

Swallowing, Harry lied "It's nothing. I'd better get going. I've got a lot of studying….."

He moved past Hagrid and past the spiral staircases, hurrying past the exit to the Fifth Floor and heading to the Sixth. Hagrid turned to watch him, then shook his head and moved on. Something was definitely bothering the kid, he thought.

...

Harry turned into the Sixth-Floor corridor and stopped. He was standing in the middle of the corridor, completely abandoned. A wind was blowing in through a broken window further behind him, snuffing out the distinctive Hogwarts torch brackets. He paused again as he heard it. With a jolt in his chest, he realized he was not alone.

The voice had returned. Harry listened, his face illuminated by one of the torch brackets still burning.

_Blood….I want blood!_

The voice was coming from apparently deep within the wall, but echoing through the dark corridor, up to its dark ceiling. It was not just bloodthirsty this time, but distinctly angry. Harry inhaled sharply. Heart pounding, he moved to the wall, as mid-sentence, he heard the sound of a large body shift its position. He put his hands to the wall as he heard its next sentence and began to shuffle along, following the voice and its distant, faint accompanied hisses, slithers and shuffling sounds, which were becoming closer and much, much clearer:

_They all must die….Kill…. Kill…. KILLL…._

At the third 'kill', Harry heard a loud series of thumps coming from somewhere close by. Was it the crumbling of the stones in the wall next to him, or something else? He had no time to think, because he tuned his ears as the voice suddenly quietened down.

_Time to kill…_

Harry paused, almost as startled by the voice's fading away as its appearance. Shaking, he looked up and down the corridor, heart still hammering. He thought the voice had been travelling in the direction of a corridor two bends and fifty metres from his when it began to fade. He summed up enough courage to continue on, terrified of what he could be about to see.

...

Justin Finch-Fletchley was still intent on finding Harry, guilty or not. Now he paused. He thought he'd heard a slithering of a body against stone before, when he'd just turned onto the corridor. Now he could hear it again, much closer this time. His hand reached into his pocket unconsciously, feeling his wand. Ahead of him, Nearly Headless Nick turned the corridor, immediately seeing Justin by himself.

"Good afternoon Mr. Finch-Fletchley? I hope you are well?" the Gryffindor ghost enquired, tipping his mostly severed neck slightly in a courteous manner.

Justin had no time to answer. A shadow loomed onto the wall behind the ghost, about fifteen metres from Justin. Its owner rounded the corner just as Nick drifted closer to him. Justin could see the wall behind Nick relatively clearly, but it was slightly indistinct viewing through his silver body.

A dark, massive shape reared off the floor, aiming its gaze at Justin. Nick had unknowingly just saved his life, but that didn't stop Justin from opening his mouth wide in shock as his body from his hair to his toenails lost all colour, and he fell back onto his back with a loud bang.

Nick paused, concerned that Justin had just collapsed as if of fright or a heart attack. Turning to face the wall, he looked up into a most terrifying face just feet from him, with massive yellow eyes. He had never been more terrified. Not even on his execution day.

With a sudden flutter of his ghostly body, he flashed into dark brown, soot-like, and his head fell forward, almost completely off. He didn't even have time to shut his eyes. Smoke poured from his neck as he hovered in place six inches off the ground, the first ghost to ever be petrified.

A large trail of water stretching out from the wall and round the next corridor for five metres was the only evidence of any attacker. The water trail ended suddenly at a cracked, rotting wall just around the corner that Justin had been staring at.

Thirty seconds after Justin fell, Harry Potter turned the corner to find the scene of the attack completely deserted.

...

Harry rounded the corner, initially looking at a large puddle of water to his left. It was odd, how there should be water here, of all places, he thought before training his gaze upwards to see the sight of Nearly Headless Nick, neck askew, smoke pouring from his now darkened body.

_What sort of magic could harm a ghost? _he pondered to himself.

Harry, still feeling very twitchy, turned to face the wall. Was it a movement that had caught his attention, or a sound? He began to back away, still facing the wall, before he tripped and fell onto his back over something very solid, dropping his books everywhere. He pulled himself into a sitting position to stare at the undetected obstacle, and his stomach dissolved.

It was Justin Finch-Fletchley, face devoid of any colour and an expression of shock still visible on his face as he stared blankly up at the ceiling.

Harry pulled himself away from the chilled, petrified body, heart racing for the second time within two minutes. Where was the attacker? He had heard the voice stop altogether seconds before he discovered the pile of water and Nick, so it must still be close by. He pulled out his wand, still feeling like he was petrified himself.

A shuffling behind him interrupted his panicked thoughts.

"Caught in the act." Harry jumped around, one hand on Justin's frozen fingers, the other holding his wand. It was Argus Filch, now smirking incredibly unpleasantly. Vengeance for Mrs. Norris.

"I'll have you out this time Potter. Mark my words!" Filch growled at him, still grinning as he turned away and walked off.

"No!" Harry pleaded desperately, his voice cracking. "Mr. Filch! You…you don't understand…."

Pleading his case with the caretaker was useless. Harry instead stared as dozens of tiny black spiders began running over Justin's clothing, clearly in a terrified frenzy as they hurried over to a window without a pane, snow from the storm outside now coating the corridor as the wind howled. He got to his feet and watched their progress out the window. Meanwhile, Nick's new sooty colour kept catching the light of the torch brackets, creating odd, golden reflections of light. In the blink of an eye, Harry realized something. The spiders….Mrs. Norris…

The spiders had already largely fled from the scene of the attack on Mrs. Norris by the time he, Hermione and Ron arrived on the scene. Now, he had been kneeling on the floor a good half-minute by the time he noticed the spiders on the move. That could mean only one thing…..

Harry had narrowly missed witnessing the attack himself…

Footsteps. Harry turned as Argus Filch rounded the corner, this time accompanied by Professor McGonagall, who, upon noticing the casualties, gasped, hand on her chest as she carefully dodged Justin. She stared at Harry, still wearing an expression of shock almost identical to hers.

"Professor!" Harry paused, taking an additional glance at Justin. "I swear I didn't!"

"This is out of my hands Potter," Professor McGonagall said, shaking her head sadly.

...

Two hours after Harry had allowed himself to be walked away from the scene of the attack by Professor McGonagall to Dumbledore, Harry had just arrived at the Common Room.

He walked in. It was entirely deserted, except for Ron and Hermione.

The latter rushed to him and hugged him.

"Harry…..thank goodness."

"We thought you'd been…..you know….." Ron trailed off, relief now flooding his face.

"Everyone's been talking about the attack," Hermione continued. "Most have congregated in the Great Hall for Dumbledore's statement. From what Filch was saying, you'd be out the door within the hour."

Ron stared at him, finally asking "Did you hear it? That….voice of yours?"

He already knew the answer. Harry just nodded. All of a sudden, he felt wearily tired.

Ron, noticing him turn to head to his dormitory, cleared his throat. "Mate….just because 90% of the school thinks you've opened the Chamber of Secrets is not an excuse to isolate yourself from us like you've got the flu."

"Besides," Hermione said. "We still have the Polyjuice Potion, and we have, courtesy of the Heir of Slytherin, Hogwarts almost entirely to ourselves for the Christmas holidays come tomorrow. And Malfoy too."

Blinking, Harry turned. "Sorry?" he enquired, "How is that supposed to cheer me up?"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "Harry, there's a reason you weren't put into Ravenclaw. It's because we can get the truth from Malfoy at long last."

"Honestly though," Ron chimed in. "You aren't the only one lacking Hermione's brain Harry. The whole school must be as thick as dragon dung if they don't notice Malfoy's happy, smug attitude and strutting each time there's an attack. The slimy, evil little git. Exploding Snap, Harry?"

"Ok," Harry said, his first grin for the day breaking across his face. For the first time that day, he was able to put the image of the petrified Justin, the voice, and his Parseltongue abilities out of his head altogether.

**Next, an unexpected surprise for two girls pops up in a rather familiar location...**


	4. The final victim

The Serpent of Slytherin

_Part Four: The Final Victim….._

_May 8__th_

Harry was sitting in the Great Hall, eating his breakfast of scrambled eggs. The adrenaline of facing Hufflepuff in Quidditch would come, he knew, but he simply felt flat. Everything was the way it should be. The weather had improved, and a dazzling ray of sunshine, coupled with a fresh breeze from the south, had penetrated the castle's thick walls. Best of all, he hadn't heard the voice since Christmas, and he hadn't stumbled across more petrified bodies either. The Chamber had to be closed, surely. The Mandrakes were now throwing large parties in the Greenhouses, and thus the petrified victims were just weeks away from being woken with their Mandrake juice. In addition, ever since Hermione had literally shed the last of her cat fur from her arms and face in early February, Harry's grades had climbed noticeably, along with Ron's.

The memory of what Tom Riddle had told him was coming back to haunt him. Through time, Tom had told him that clumsy, stumbling, lovable Hagrid had opened the Chamber of Secrets, and a student had been killed. He had seen her body, with a limp arm flopping out from under the sheet, being carried down the stairs. From what Harry could tell of the dark shape that had rushed past him when Hagrid had been confronted by Tom, it was some sort of killer spider, running down the corridor and away as it dodged Tom's hex. He had discussed it with Ron and Hermione what he'd seen that Valentine's Day night. Far from a romantic encounter, he thought. Of course, that awful day was only compounded by Ginny's singing valentine being delivered in front of Draco Malfoy, of all people.

Both Ron and Hermione had seen the diary, even seen Harry dribble ink into it to demonstrate how the book magically suck it in as if its pages were a black hole, and they didn't like what they saw and what Harry told them.

"_We don't even know this Tom Riddle. He sounds like a dirty, rotten snitch,"_ Ron had said, absolutely convinced that Hagrid was innocent.

Harry was unsure. All three knew Hagrid's love for gigantic, ferocious pets, the latest examples being a three-headed dog and a dragon. Norbert, of course, was now in Romania with Charlie, and all three knew they had been lucky to escape serious injury. It seemed perfectly in character for Hagrid to keep a giant spider and care for it as if it were a wide-eyed kitten. However, Harry was certain that Hagrid would never mean it to kill anyone.

Hermione had looked worried, biting her lip. _"You can't see where this diary keeps its brain, can you?" Also, it seems a little too easy, this whole thing."_

"_Sorry?"_

_It's almost as if someone __wanted__ that diary found, and operated. How could you have talked to Tom Riddle when he's fifty years in the past? It's just like when only you can hear that voice…"_

Harry had turned round to face her. _"You're not still scared of me after the whole Parseltongue incident are you?"_

"_I'm scared Harry. But not of you."_

Slowly, he'd decided that Tom Riddle had made a mistake. Hagrid was far from being a hater of Muggleborns, and was as far as you could get from being the genocidal, cold blooded, murderous Heir of Slytherin, whoever he or she was. But a further piece of evidence had reinforced his opinion. Ron had explicitly vetoed any idea of asking Hagrid about the attacks fifty years beforehand, so Harry had only one alternative. Finding the Chamber of Secrets.

Retracing Tom's footsteps in the present age nervously to the dungeons, Harry had pulled out his wand, kicked open the door, and yelled with shock when he found not a giant spider, not a giant man-eating snake, but Severus Snape facing him. Snape had yelled at him, given him a double-detention, and had called Professor McGonagall, who told him that pointing his wand at a teacher was unacceptable, that he should give up trying to be 'Detective Potter', and that he was risking expulsion by breaking Dumbledore's instructions to never break school rules again after the Whomping Willow incident.

It was quite obviously not Salazar Slytherin's secret Chamber. Thus, Harry had tried to forget about the whole thing, and hadn't written in the diary since, not wanting to hear what Tom Riddle told him next about the attacks. But he couldn't forget about it all.

The diary had been stolen off him just yesterday evening, and Harry guessed that the Heir of Slytherin didn't want anyone else to know anything about the Chamber of Secrets. In addition, given that Hagrid was unlikely to have opened the Chamber anyway, that meant the real culprit was on the loose. There was still a risk of attacks to Muggleborns. Was the thief sitting right before his eyes, at breakfast? Feeling suddenly seedy, he finished his breakfast and collected his Quidditch gear from his dormitory.

It didn't even occur to him or Ron that Hermione had already been selected as the next target.

...

Ginny knew it was almost time to head off to the Quidditch match, but felt shaky all over. Something was nagging her to abandon breakfast, walk right past Harry, dressed in his Quidditch robes, plus Ron and Hermione and walk towards the First Floor corridor. Vaguely, as if she was underwater, Ginny heard Ron question her, felt herself shake her head and walk on, aching and feeling as if a second person was sharing her body. Even Harry's presence had failed to make her blush or panic. She, without even being aware of where her feet were taking her, walked into Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom and towards the row of sinks standing there, some of the mirrors facing her. In her trance-like state, she still noticed, with a start, that her eyes had scarlet circles around them and she was incredibly pale. She focused her attention on the sink with the little tap that didn't work. Crouching down, Ginny stared at the little silver snake embroidered there, and began to speak. Not in English.

In Parseltongue.

...

Harry, now dressed in his Quidditch robes and clutching his Nimbus Two Thousand under his right arm, hurried down the stairs to the Entrance Hall. Students were now pouring out of their dormitories and from the Great Hall to watch the game of Quidditch between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Barely anyone was looking suspiciously at Harry nowadays, and he was grateful for that. Ron and Hermione were escorting him, Hermione having finally put down her Herbology studies to head down to the game without even breakfast.

Ron spotted Ginny waking up the stairs towards them, not making eye contact and looking pale.

"Ginny!" Ron called out. "Going to the match?" Ginny shook her head, almost zombie-like, and proceeded up the stairs right past them. Not even giving her brother or her crush a look.

Ron shook his head and turned to Harry "I tell you, she gets weirder and weirder by the day."

Harry took one glance at her retreating figure, pondering….

"Sounds like something you say about me all the time, Ronald," sighed Hermione exasperatedly. "Although…." She paused, turning towards Ron and Harry.

"She looks awfully tired. She looks like she's been possessed by some evil bug that's controlling her brain, so I think she needs some rest. Just leave her Ron," she added, as Ron turned around, of half a mind to reprimand Ginny for her rudeness and question her behaviour.

Harry continued on in silence, as he passed by a whistling, hissing drainage pipe hidden in the wall, already forgetting about Ginny's pale colour, and thinking what the Quidditch score would be today. Hufflepuff were on significantly inferior brooms to the Slytherins, the latter who had slaughtered them three hundred and sixty to twenty a week ago. If Harry had beaten Draco Malfoy on his flash new broom, then Hufflepuff should be a pushover on their Comet Two-Sixties. Oliver Wood had said as much during yesterday's practice. Lee Jordan and the Weasley Twins were placing bets on how long the game would last before a Gryffindor victory.

"How long do you think before I catch the Snitch?" Harry asked Ron, breaking the ice. "Twenty minutes?"

"You sell yourself short, mate," Ron replied. "The Hufflepuff Seeker's an idiot, and he missed the Snitch when it was hovering underneath his big nose when playing Slytherin. You'll catch it in five, Harry."

Harry had just placed his foot on the lowest stair when he heard it.

_Kill, let me kill __this time__…Kill…..rip….tear…_

His cheeks lost their colour as he dropped his broomstick, froze and stared at Ron and Hermione.

A look of puzzlement came across Hermione's face. Ron stared back at him.

"No….don't tell me…."

The voice was barely discernible above the hubbub of the crowd. Harry looked to see where it had come from. He moved to the wall, touching it with his fingers. Hermione turned, still deep in thought as she watched Harry's fingers brush the stone, watched him place his ear to the wall. Nothing. The voice had already retreated into the depths of the castle.

Waiting to attack.

But Hermione's analytical brain was still ticking over. Mrs Norris. Colin Creevey. Justin-Finch Fletchley. Nearly-Headless Nick. The spiders on Halloween. The mysterious voice, heard only by Harry…..

….Harry's Parseltongue abilities….

Clapping a hand to her forehead, she gasped.

"Harry!...I think I've just understood something! I need to go to the Library!"

"Sorry, what do you know?" Harry asked her, completely perplexed by her sudden understanding.

She looked at him. "You're a Parsel….never mind, I'll see you after the game! You win for us, and I'll tell you then! Just heading off to do some research….." she faded as she turned, eyes widened with excitement as she ran up the stairs towards the Library.

Turning, Harry yelled at her retreating figure desperately.

"What do you understand?"

But Hermione only gave him a wave as she sprinted up towards the Third Floor, further into the castle, which was rapidly emptying. Several students paused to stare at her progress.

Harry turned to Ron, who was watching her figure grow smaller and smaller, looking vaguely troubled.

"What does she understand? And why the Library?"

"That's Hermione for you. When in doubt, go to the Library," Ron sighed, letting it go and shrugging his shoulders as they walked out into the courtyard, heading towards the Quidditch Pitch.

...

Hermione rocketed up the stairs, turning left to run along the Third Floor corridor towards the Library.

Compared to the previous two floors, this corridor was decidedly quieter, she thought, slowing to a walk, her brain still buzzing with the link she'd just made between Harry and the voice….

A low, faint hiss interrupted her thoughts, followed immediately by a smooth slithering of body against stone floor. It reminded Hermione of the slithering of a cloak over leaves, hidden in the darkness of the Forbidden Forest when they had detention last year. Hermione paused, heart racing….

There was a bang ahead of her as a classroom door flew open, and thirty fifth-years poured out of their OWL study class, heading towards the Quidditch Pitch.

Hermione turned, trying to ascertain the source of the noise that had been issuing from behind her back, but there was nothing.

"Miss Granger! Why aren't you down at Quidditch with Potter and Weasley?"

Hermione turned yet again to find Professor McGonagall standing before her, suspicion lining her face.

"Oh, um, well, Professor, you know how important my studies are to me, so can I have a note to go into the Library? I really want to get started on understanding the basic concept of Ancient Runes before I take it next year," Hermione lied, quickly thinking on the spot.

Professor McGonagall looked her up and down, beady eyes evaluating her every twitch. Finally, she made her decision.

"Very well, Miss Granger, take this note to Madam Pince, and tell her you have my permission. Don't over-focus on your work, you might not see your friends nearly enough. I'll be heading down to watch the game in about ten minutes. Be careful when coming back out to the game, won't you?"

"Of course," Hermione swallowed, almost snatching the note off the head of Gryffindor House. "Thank you…." Her words faded as she ran the last two corridors to the Library, leaving a stunned Professor McGonagall in her wake.

Not even Hermione Granger was _this _committed to her work. Something was bugging her, she thought.

...

Hermione rushed into the Library, note clutched in her hand. The vulture-like librarian, Madam Pince, glowered at her disruptive entry; the Library was half-empty and silence was mandatory to allow the remaining students to study properly. "Yes?" Madam Pince snapped.

Hermione handed the note, the librarian reading it for a second or so and throwing away before telling her "Two rows down. Bit advanced for a second year I would have thought."

But Hermione continued on, heading towards the section which, she knew, was Hogwarts' biological section. She knew the Library better than the back of her hand- she'd come to this section to look up potential suspect species of creatures which could have the power to petrify after the double attack in December. But her initial theories had all been proven false- none could possibly explain how the monster hid itself so quickly after attacking, nor how only Harry could track its movements about the castle.

All she'd heard the night of the Halloween attack as she was walking with Ron had been some hissing issuing from a broken pipe…..

Hissing. Didn't that mean some sort of snake? It especially made sense given that Harry was a Parselmouth. Hermione began pulling out every textbook in the biology section- checking for a copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. The only copy the Library had was currently being borrowed by someone else, and her copy was up in her dormitory.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, sounding much more like Ron than her usual self. Ron was right- he _had_ been a bad influence on her. Especially this year, with them being on much friendlier terms, save for Ron's downright hostile attitude towards Gilderoy Lockhart. She was never going to give Ron the satisfaction of admitting so, but both Ron and Harry were partially right. Lockhart, handsome as he was, did seem to be somewhat clumsy in real life, not like his famed personality at all.

Finally, Hermione pulled out an old, battered textbook, at least fifty years old. Flicking through its pages, she reached the section on reptiles. One of the first entries caught her eye, with a drawing of a massive snake with foot-long teeth and large yellow eyes, drawn beside a man for comparison. She began to read its description on the next page.

_Basilisk_

_Of the many fearsome beasts that roam our land, none is more deadly than the Basilisk. Capable of living for hundreds of years, instant death awaits any who meet this giant serpent's eye. Spiders flee before it, and the crowing of a rooster can kill it._

Hermione read on, comprehension dawning, and adrenaline coursing through her veins. Further on there was a mention of poison fangs, the species' nickname- the King of the Serpents, and also how no Basilisk had been seen in Britain for nearly four hundred years.

"That's what you think," she muttered, looking around to ensure Madam Pince or a Prefect couldn't see what she did next- she tore the page right out of the book. She was going to see Ron and Harry right now. It all fitted- the menacing voice only Harry could hear, and the spiders. Also, Hagrid's roosters must have been slaughtered to avoid the Basilisk being inadvertently killed. Harry had told her that he had bumped into Hagrid carrying his second dead rooster just before Justin and Nick were attacked. She corrected herself as a thought came to her. _Almost_ everything fitted.

Why had nobody died when they stared at this terrifying monster? Hermione pondered that too, before she started reconstructing each attack.

Colin Creevey, noticing a movement in the dark, pulling out his camera and obscuring his face from the Basilisk's massive yellow eyes a second before it turned and stared at him full on.

Justin Finch-Fletchley, walking along a dark, abandoned corridor where the Basilisk could easily slither along to kill its prey without anyone noticing. Nearly Headless Nick, floating around the corner and just at the right time partially obscuring Justin's view of the snake as it slithered into view. Nick, being a ghost, was impossible to kill again, even though he had no accessory to shield himself from the full exposure to the Basilisk's stare.

Mrs. Norris, stalking the sopping wet First Floor corridor, catching a glimpse of a reflection as the Basilisk leered down at her from several metres above.

In addition, before it could finish any of these victims off with its poison instead or eat them, the Basilisk had been interrupted by someone.

Harry in the case of Mrs. Norris and Justin, and Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore in the case of Colin.

She had avoided being attacked just minutes before, she realised, because of some fifth-years appearing at the right time.

And that raised more questions. How could the Basilisk conduct hit-and-run attacks so successfully without anyone noticing it retreating to its lair, wherever that was?

And it came to her too. Harry had been hearing voices in the wall for months, and all she and Ron had ever heard each time they were near it were _some hissing pipes_.

She pulled out a quill and ink, dipped it into the ink and scribbled at one corner 'Pipes'.

In addition, it raised a further question. Did the Heir of Slytherin consider Harry a threat? If so, was he tracking his movements with the Basilisk? Also, if that was the case, surely Ron would be a logical target to get to Harry.

Or her.

Hermione finally finished reading, and scrunched the page into her fist. She had to tell Harry and Ron, but also any teacher or Prefect that she came across of this danger. No-one had so far died in this round of attacks, but sooner or later, someone's luck would run out with no protection from the Basilisk's lethal gaze. It was simply inevitable.

She ran out of the Library, earning a second glare from Madam Pince, who shouted after her

"Hey! No wandering the corridors by yourself!"

But Hermione ran without a glance behind her. Turning left instead of right, she began running along the now-abandoned corridor, a fresh breeze blowing in through the open windows. Hermione heard a distant cheer from the Quidditch Pitch. The game was due to start any minute now, and she at least needed to find Ron to inform him of what she'd found, as Harry would already be playing by now.

...

Ginny had finally come to her senses, noticing that she had apparently fallen asleep walking the corridors, just after she'd rushed into the First Floor bathroom to be sick. She looked around. She was now lying on the Third Floor, about two hundred metres from the Library.

How had she gotten there? It was just like in early November, the night of Colin's attack, when she'd suddenly found herself sleeping outside the portrait hole, her feet sore and somewhat grimy. It was as if she'd been walking for hours, even though she'd safely tucked herself into bed. Ginny struggled to remember. Hadn't she crept out of bed to see Harry in the Hospital Wing, at about the same time Colin's detention was about to finish? She swore she had even seen Colin, pin-prick sized in the dark, walking in her direction, seconds before he seemingly tripped backwards while taking a photograph. She even thought it was funny, and had let out a high, cold laugh that sounded most unlike hers. And then….nothing. For her, similar mind blanks had occurred on Halloween, and on December 18th.

Ginny turned to see Hermione rushing around the corner, then promptly taking a right turn before she could see Ginny lying on the ground. She was clearly in a hurry.

Ginny had got up and started running after Hermione to tell her about her suspicious mind blanks around the time of each attack, but stopped in her tracks when she heard an icy cold voice, throbbing inside her brain.

"_Lie down and stay here. You don't want to end up dead like that Mudblood, do you?"_

As if an invisible hand had made contact with her chest, she sprawled backwards onto the ancient stone floor. With a jolt of horror, she suddenly found herself staring at Tom Riddle's diary in her right hand. Ginny now regretted even opening it after she'd stolen it off Harry, trying to protect him from whatever had been happening to her. She finally knew for sure what that book was doing to her. She had been used as a waypoint for the Monster of Slytherin.

Then an even scarier voice issued, not from her head, but from the wall in front of her, its bricks trembling as something gigantic moved behind them.

_Where is the blood? Time…..to kill…_

The trembling in the wall turned a corner, gradually fading, but the voice became even louder, and even more excited….

_I smell her, so close now….Kill…Rip…tear….BLOOD AT LAST!_

Ginny's day got even worse at that moment. She knew exactly who the next victim was going to be.

...

Hermione now had a stitch, and had to slow to a walking speed. She looked round, and noticed that she was on a dark corridor without any illuminated torch brackets that led to a bathroom on the left, the very same one where Ron and Harry had saved her from a Mountain Troll. Another scary Halloween, just like the night they found Mrs. Norris. It made her think.

All three had noticed that a flood of water had poured out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, ensuring Mrs. Norris got petrified rather than killed. The cat had effectively been right outside the bathroom door when she'd been attacked. Harry had also mentioned that Tom Riddle had said the monster's victim was a girl. One of the final pieces of the mysterious puzzle came to her. What if the Basilisk's only fatality in its centuries-long existence was Moaning Myrtle?

Her mind went into hyper drive, constructing a potential crime scene.

_Myrtle was in the bathroom, crying yet again._ _She was sobbing so loudly she didn't hear the doors open, and a teenage boy stepped in quietly, taking care to not alert her. His gaze was locked on the sinks, and he began to speak in Parseltongue. The boy (Hermione couldn't imagine who he, or she, for that matter, could have been) tuned his face away as the sinks broke away to reveal a massive pipe._

'How else could the Basilisk access the bathroom?' Hermione thought, as the scene she'd imagined continued to play like a film.

_Looking up, Myrtle heard the hissing, wiping her eyes and gulping. Realizing there was an intruder in the bathroom, she unlocked the door to her cubicle and yelled at the boy, face still turned away from her._

"_Go away! This is a girl's bathroom! Can't you read the…" she faded, as she heard a loud slithering and rasping sound of scales against concrete, and turned to see movement between the partially separated sinks._

_The Basilisk suddenly pulled its head above the lip of the pipe, and squeezed its face in between the separated sinks to rest its chin on the floor in one smooth motion. It opened its mouth wide as it leered at Myrtle menacingly._

_Myrtle didn't even have time to look surprised. Her eyes widened slightly as her eyeballs suddenly turned blotchy, red and inflamed, and her eye sockets flashed into a dark brown, burned look behind her glasses, most unlike the chilled, white look on the faces of Colin and Justin. She toppled backwards, and Hermione knew she would never get up again. Not in human form._

_The Basilisk pulled its head away from sight again as the boy peered around cautiously. Noticing the body lying on the floor before him, his face split into a wide, evil, inhuman smile….._

Hermione pulled herself back to the present. What was it that had disturbed her? A hissing pipe in the wall to her left. She didn't even have time to pull out the ink and quill to write 'Moaning Myrtle' on the page.

She suddenly heard a loud splashing as a toilet in the girls' bathroom ahead of her emptied its contents onto the floor. A trail of water poked itself out from under the door, flowing down the corridor facing the toilet's door. Next, Hermione heard the sound of breaking china as the toilet was shattered, and angry hissing as something tried to squeeze itself through the toilet. More crashing followed as all the sinks were broken too. The door was next. Whipped by an unseen, angry tail, it almost flew off its hinges, smacking into a fully open position.

A loud, hungry hiss issued from the open door, and a shadow fell on the wall facing Hermione at the corridor's end. The shadow had massive jaws, and foot long teeth…

Hermione realised she'd been drawn into a trap. The Heir of Slytherin clearly knew enough about her, Harry and Ron, including Hermione's book-loving and curious nature. The Basilisk had followed her to the Library, waiting for a time to strike when she'd be completely alone. It must have smelt her through the walls.

Two seconds more, and she'd be petrified by the reflection on the water. Five seconds more, and she'd be dead. Hermione turned and ran, ignoring the stitch as she tapped into a new reservoir of energy, hair flying behind her.

The Basilisk, infuriated that its chosen ambush place was anything but an ambush place, finally freed itself from its prison with a victorious snarl.

Hermione heard the slithering again, behind her, as the Basilisk picked up speed, heading towards the Mudblood it had been assigned to attack. She forced herself to continue running down the corridor, whimpering to herself "Don't look at it, don't look at it."

She turned the corridor, running left, back towards the relative safety of the Library, which had other people there. Her hand was still securely clutching the paper. She didn't even notice Ginny just to the right of her turn, who had shut her eyes and was almost hugging the wall for support.

She was now two hundred metres from the Library. One hundred and fifty. One hundred. One more corridor to go.

She turned and ran into Penelope Clearwater, the sixth-year Ravenclaw Prefect, walking straight into the zone of danger. With a squeal, Hermione was knocked off her feet, and lay sprawled, accidentally staring behind her down the corridor she'd just run down. Thankfully, the Basilisk hadn't rounded this corridor yet, but she could still hear its slithering sound, coming closer. Another shadow fell upon the corridor. She had just seconds left. Picking herself up, she rushed at Penelope, pushing the Prefect roughly around a corner and behind the nearest pillar with surprising strength for her size.

Safe from the Basilisk's gaze. For now.

Penelope was much taken aback and shouted "Let me go! I'm a Prefect for goodness sake!"

But Hermione hushed her. "There's a Basilisk coming. It means we aren't safe here." She trembled at the memory of the last minute or two, but pulled herself together. She wasn't going to suffer the same fate as Moaning Myrtle, and neither was Penelope.

"Do you have a mirror?" she demanded. Still shocked by Hermione's actions, Penelope shook her head, and finally asked

"What on earth do you need one for?"

Hermione, dreading the Basilisk's gaze so much that she could barely raise her head to address Penelope's question, explained hurriedly, breath still coming in gasps.

"I need one….to see if it's coming. If we look at it directly, we're dead."

Still shocked, Penelope raised her wand and whispered "Accio hand mirror!"

Hermione heard an angry snap from the Basilisk as the life-saving hand mirror whooshed right past it. Reaching out her hand around the corner, but still facing the wall, Penelope caught it.

"Here," she said, giving the mirror to Hermione. "You know what to do."

Hermione, knees trembling, held the mirror out, and began cautiously extending it out, one inch at a time. She could now see down the corridor, including a petite dark figure pressed against the wall. What, or who, was it? She had no time to identify it, because the Basilisk's snout suddenly appeared in the mirror as it poked it round the corner a hundred metres away, sniffing at the air.

Hermione withdrew the mirror in a flash. "It's there," she whispered to Penelope, who lost most of the colour in her cheeks as she clapped a hand to her forehead in horror. Hermione extended the mirror again, ensuring that she stopped just before she could see the Basilisk's left eye. Even though she'd simply be petrified, it would nevertheless not be ideal. What words would Harry hear if he was in this position?

The Basilisk still had its snout extended upwards. It stretched out a forked, blood-red tongue, and withdrew it. It repeated this, each tongue poke lasting about two seconds. Trying to taste their scent.

She unsheathed her wand, but what sort of magic could a thirteen-year old use to defeat the King of the Serpents?

Hermione silently prayed that it would go away, not notice their scent. She hoped that if she hung on for just another minute until the Basilisk convinced itself nobody was there, she'd still be able to see Harry and Ron after the Quidditch match and tell them of her discovery and personal encounter with the Basilisk. She especially hated the fact that she wasn't sitting beside Ron right now, enjoying the game.

Quite bizarrely, a memory came back into her head- New Years' Day in the Hospital Wing with Harry and Ron.

"_According to Madam Pomfrey, I should be out in around five weeks," Hermione said, as Harry dumped four more library books on her bedside table (at her request, of course.) Ron, looking serious, took a look at Harry then leaned forward. "I'm actually sad about that. It means I'm going to stop picking catnip for you."_

_All three split their sides laughing, causing Madam Pomfrey to run over, scold Harry and Ron, and boot them out of the Hospital Wing, muttering darkly about inappropriate jokes upsetting patients._

_But Hermione was still smiling. Ron's joke had resulted in her first smile since the Polyjuice Potion accident…._

The snout was slowly withdrawn. Hermione looked into the mirror again. It was gone. No Basilisk in sight. She stretched, arms aching, and yawned.

Penelope shook her back to reality. "What if it comes back?"

Hermione gave the mirror a quick flick around the pillar. Nothing.

"We just keep looking at it, I guess," she said.

Both began walking, taking care to not cause any unnecessary noise, towards the Library. A reassuring light was being cast by the sun through a window behind them. Hermione was scanning every inch of the ground behind them with the mirror, tilting it left and right. Penelope was staring into the mirror too.

Knowing the Basilisk could potentially ambush them from the front- Hermione risked a glance ahead of them. They were now twenty metres from the corner they'd huddled behind desperately. The lights of the Library were ahead. Through the Library windows, she saw Professor McGonagall engaged in conversation with Madam Pince, and a new surge of optimism surged through her. In less than a minute, Professor McGonagall would know the hazard that lurked the school.

Too late, they heard a slithering sound, and the light streaming through the window behind them was blocked. Hermione involuntarily glanced into the mirror.

The Basilisk had rounded the corner, the sun silhouetting its upper body. Its bulbous yellow eyes, protruding many centimetres out from its skin, were trained on them like spotlights.

"No!" she cried out in terror, as Penelope crumpled forwards. Her grip around the paper tightened as the mirror fell out of her other hand. Her wand also fell out of her sleeve and emitted several large sparks as it hit the floor. Her brown eyes widening with shock, Hermione fell forwards, mouth still open in surprise, and hit the ground with a smack, along with Penelope, both now prisoners in their motionless bodies.

Professor McGonagall heard a sound, like a block of concrete being dropped onto the floor. She turned in a jiffy and ran out of the Library. Two more statue-like bodies were lying on the floor, around eighty metres away. No attacker in sight. She ran flat out to them. One was the Ravenclaw Prefect, Penelope Clearwater. Her heart sank as she identified the one lying next to Penelope, cheeks now draining of their colour to become as pale as chalk.

Hermione. McGonagall rolled her over awkwardly- Hermione now felt like she weighed a tonne, and peered at the objects that had fallen out of her hand and sleeve. A mirror, and her wand. A bruise was slowly forming on Hermione's forehead from the fall.

A small tear escaped her right eye, and she wiped it away, sniffing. Never did she imagine this would happen. Madam Pomfrey would have to be told that two more beds were needed, and McGonagall knew she had to tell Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

Ginny came running around the corridor, even more pale than normal, and almost fainting as she noticed Hermione's prone figure.

Straightening up, McGonagall told her

"Go to Madam Pomfrey, and get a Pepperup Potion, Miss Weasley. You didn't need to see this. I shall be there in a few minutes in any case." Ginny nodded, and ran off.

She conjured stretchers, and lifted both the petrified Hermione and Penelope onto each, and let them hover down the corridor just ahead of her as she walked towards the Hospital Wing, with a heavy heart. She knew Harry Potter and Ron Weasley would take this news very hard.

She didn't notice the little, yellowed corner of paper sticking out from Hermione's fist, and therefore couldn't possibly comprehend what had attacked them.

The Basilisk had failed. Hermione Granger was still alive, and so was Penelope, courtesy of Hermione's knowledge.

Moaning Myrtle was the Basilisk's only and last fatality.

**Thanks to Steve Kloves for writing the scene involving Ginny brushing past Harry and Ron. It's a shame it didn't make it into the movie, so here it is.**

**Next chapter, Ron has a quiet moment in the Hospital Wing with Hermione, and Ginny finally figures out the pieces of the puzzle, as do Harry and Ron.**


	5. The Diary, the Serpent, and the paper

The Serpent of Slytherin

_Part Five: The diary, the serpent and the piece of paper._

Oliver Wood's briefing on the Quidditch game had run overtime by ten minutes, and the game had already meant to start by now. Fred and George were now having their own unilateral conversation with Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, as Wood continued droning on, pointing at the crude Quidditch Pitch drawing on the blackboard and instructing the players on attack and defence strategies, none of whom were listening. Even Harry was only pretending to listen, as his mind was still brimming with questions, like what _had_ Hermione figured out, and why was it so urgently important for her to miss the game against Hufflepuff? The return of the cold, murderous voice had also pushed thoughts of listening to Wood's monologue to the back of his mind, although Harry reassured himself that everyone was down at the game, and not vulnerable to attack in the corridors.

The Gryffindor Captain then finally turned from his blackboard, and cursed, his Scottish accent cutting the air like a whip.

"What the…..? Hey, do we want to win the cup, or just sit on our arses talking? You two!" he shouted at Fred and George, who finally looked up, Fred yawning openly, arms splayed as he slumped at the back of the tent-turned briefing room.

Wood looked at a grandfather clock sitting on the wall behind him, finally realising they were running late. Boos from the Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins echoed from the stands as Gryffindor had yet to make an appearance and were delaying the match. All players stood up as they saw the time, hands gripping their brooms in anticipation.

"All right, listen up. We play our game, Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance. We're stronger, quicker and smarter," Wood said, finally abandoning his overlong pep-talk and marching towards the grounds, broomstick in hand. Harry followed right behind Wood, followed up by Fred and George and the three Chasers.

George interrupted "Not to mention they're dead scared that Harry'll petrify them if they fly anywhere near him," cackling at his own wit.

Wood took note of their bonus, saying with a notable smirk "Well, that too."

They turned the corner, mounting the steps onto the pitch. Cedric Diggory and the Hufflepuff team were already flying around the pitch, clearly impatient with something.

That something wasn't their late appearance. Harry noted yet more boos from the crowd as a grim-looking Professor McGonagall strode off the pitch, moth-eaten hat on, and carrying an official-looking roll of parchment.

Oliver Wood tried to push past Professor McGonagall, but the normally Quidditch-mad Head of Gryffindor House wasn't taking any of it.

"Professor McGonagall…" Wood started.

"This match has been cancelled," said Professor McGonagall sternly.

"Cancelled?" enquired Wood, shaking his head in puzzlement. "You can't cancel Quidditch!"

"Silence, Wood. You and your teammates will return to Gryffindor Tower now. Potter…" she added, peering at Harry over her spectacles.

"…you and I will find Mr. Weasley. There is something the both of you have to see."

...

Chivvying both of them forwards towards the Hospital Wing, Professor McGonagall turned to them, voice unusually tender. "I warn you. This could be a wee bit of a shock."

Harry turned to his right. First bed on the right had the Ravenclaw Prefect lying on it, petrified with her eyes still wide open. Ron pulled his gaze over to where Madam Pomfrey was standing, leaning over the last bed on the left. All three continued towards it.

The statue-like figure had their right hand raised in a fist, and frozen into place. The person lying there looked oddly familiar…..

Ron suddenly felt sick. He would rather be vomiting up another round of slugs than see this. The girl lying there was none other than….

"Hermione!" he whispered in shock. He wasn't able to say anything else.

Harry too saw who was lying there, petrified, and froze himself, heart dropping. He simply could not believe it. One of his best friends was now little more than a wax statue, frozen in time.

"She was found near the Library," Professor McGonagall said, and Harry noted a barely-concealed tremble in her voice as she held up a mirror, its reflection dancing over them.

"Along with this. Does it mean anything to either of you?"

Harry shook his head. "No." He didn't have a clue as to why she was holding a mirror when she was attacked.

Professor McGonagall placed the mirror back beside Hermione's bedside table. Her arm moved, revealing Hermione's brown eyes, now frozen wide open, and look of shock- no- horror on her face, mouth still frozen in place, and extremely pale, clammy skin. Her entire body looked tensed, nervous even.

Ron's mouth fell open, and colour drained from his cheeks too. If only he hadn't been so flippant about her rushing off to the Library alone…

Harry, noticing too her terrified expression, leaned over, and examined her closed fist, gently running his fingered seeker's glove along the top of her hand, almost comfortingly. It was now cold and stiff, just like the rest of her. She must have been petrified for less than thirty minutes, and already it felt as if her hand had been dipped in ice for hours.

Ron stood there, still trying to take stock of the scene, and trying not to betray his inner emotions. What was it about seeing his friend there, stone cold and presumably unconscious, and still looking terrified for her life, that made it _hurt _so much? Having Draco Malfoy call her a Mudblood was nothing compared to this.

Surely he'd have felt the same way if Harry was lying motionless and spread-eagled on a bed, in her place. Wouldn't've he?

Professor McGonagall addressed them softly.

"I have to go to Gryffindor Tower to address the students. I'll give you a few more minutes," she turned, and beckoning Madam Pomfrey away to her office.

Harry, not noticing a thin wad of crinkled paper sticking out from her fist, turned, sighed, and followed Professor McGonagall at a distance. He didn't even know what to say to a petrified person. He paused just before the door, waiting for his remaining best friend.

But Ron, noticing Harry turning to wait for him, gave him an almost imperceptible nod of the head. Harry paused to wait beside the most distant pillar, pondering the day's terrible turn. He knew he had no choice but to talk to Hagrid now about events fifty years prior, regardless of whether or not he was behind the current spate of attacks.

Ron pulled up a chair beside Hermione's right side, shaking his head slowly. She was, of course a Muggleborn, in mortal danger from the Heir of Slytherin and his or her monster, and he had done nothing. Blinking back tears, he whispered the thought that had been pounding inside his brain.

"I'm so sorry Hermione. I thought you were safe."

What he couldn't possibly have known was that Hermione, although frozen in Rigor mortis, without any notable vision from her frozen eyes, and no sense of smell, had heard every word he said.

...

Professor McGonagall finished reading the new safety rules the staff had just written to the sombre crowd of Gryffindors in the Common Room, sounding much shriller and more stressed than they had ever heard her before.

"…All students will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. _No exceptions._"

She turned to leave, but paused by the portrait hole.

"I should tell you this. Unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught, it is likely the school will be closed." She nodded grimly, folding up the parchment, and left the still shell shocked Gryffindors behind.

Oliver Wood, still in his Quidditch robes, looked as if he'd been hit on the back of the head with a beater's bat. A curfew outside of class time meant no Quidditch. All his efforts had been in vain. Ginny looked even more pale and tremulous than usual. For once, she wasn't writing in her diary. In fact, it was nowhere to be seen. Fred and George, instead of joking, looked subdued, and instead of pranking Ginny appeared to be trying to comfort her.

"It's okay, Gin….Why are you so pale? None of it's your fault…"

But Harry's thoughts were still miles away, and so were Ron's. The latter had even lost his appetite- the sweets the Twins had brought back up to share were untouched.

The one tiny consolation for Harry was that no-one was whispering behind his back this time around. Who on earth would accuse him of attacking Hermione?

The ice was broken by Lee Jordan, standing up and addressing the crowd, as if at a political rally.

"That's two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff. Haven't _any_ of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn't it _obvious_ all this stuff's coming from Slytherin? The _heir_ of Slytherin, the _monster_ of Slytherin- why don't they just chuck all the Slytherins out?" He was greeted by a hail of applause. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and-Harry noticed- Percy- didn't join in.

George sided to Harry, who was staring at Percy, who looked pale and stunned.

"Percy's in shock." he said, "That Ravenclaw girl- Penelope Clearwater- she's a Prefect. I don't think he thought the monster would dare attack a _Prefect_."

Unseen by everyone, Ginny smiled her first smile that day, a thin, barely noticeable one. _She _knew what Percy and Penelope had been up to.

As George returned to his previous seat, Harry turned to Ron, who was slowly regaining some colour in his cheeks.

"We've got to talk to Hagrid, Ron. I still can't believe it was or is him. But _if _he did set the monster loose last time, he'll know how to get inside the Chamber of Secrets, and that's a start."

Unknowingly sounding much more like Hermione than usual, Ron turned to Harry, wide eyed.

"But you heard McGonagall. We're not allowed to leave the tower except for class."

"I think it's time to get my Dad's old cloak out again."

...

Waiting until Neville, Dean and Seamus finally fell asleep, Harry read a textbook by wandlight, pretending to be entranced by it, while Ron sat there gloomily looking up at the ceiling and refusing to join in any conversation. Seconds after Neville's snores began to fill the dormitory, Harry and Ron both smoothly leapt out of bed, throwing the Invisibility Cloak over themselves, punctuated by a small hoot of surprise from Hedwig. It was now after eleven o'clock.

...

Harry and Ron were now approaching the Entrance Hall, and an alert Severus Snape on guard, who was pacing on the spot, wand held loosely in his right hand and ready for combat. They'd dodged McGonagall and Fitwick on the floor above, who thankfully did not hear the footsteps and muffled scuffing the Cloak produced.

They were nearly past Snape. Thirty metres. Twenty…Ten….

Ron suddenly stubbed his toe, and opened his mouth to swear before Harry could elbow him in the ribs.

"Ow, shi…"

"A…aah….CHOO!"

Harry stopped. He saw Snape dart his eyes left and right along the stone wall, right through them.

Snape stopped, the sound of his sneeze still echoing through the dark Entrance Hall, stopped as he thought he heard an animal's sound closeby. He looked around nervously. No Monster in sight.

That was just as well for Severus Snape. If the Monster of Slytherin really had been out that night, he could have done nothing to protect himself. He didn't notice the oak doors behind him open just a sliver as the undetected Harry and Ron snuck out into the courtyard in the direction of Hagrid's Hut.

_Three hours later…_

Ron and Harry had returned to the Common Room, both out of breath. What they'd just experienced would plague Ron's nightmares right into adulthood. _Spiders, ten feet long, and a hundred kilograms each, thundering like rampaging bulls after the Ford Anglia. One had even grabbed Ron and tried to pull him out of the window. If it wasn't for Harry… A branch of the bloody arachnids, waiting for them ahead on a low-lying branch. A horrible cold gripped him. He and Harry would never see Hermione again…_

"_Get us in the air!" Harry demanded._

_Ron shifted the stick, but met resistance and groaning._

"_The flying gear's jammed!"_

"_Come on, pull!"_

"_I'm trying!" Ron yelled desperately. Spiders were now flying up towards them, progressively cracking the windscreen further._

_Harry reached down, and with Ron, gave the gear stick a desperate, vicious pull, finally changing it._

_The car began to rotate, its front wheels leaving the ground, but the back ones were still churning up the ground and squashing unlucky spiders. Applying full back pressure, Ron grimaced as the spiders up ahead waited. Fifty metres….forty…thirty…._

_The car finally rotated, hitting turbulence as it beheaded six spiders with its back wheels and giving the branch a glancing blow, but finally flying, free from the spiders at last…._

Ron woke up. Harry was out like a light, but the encounter with Aragog was giving him flashbacks, and worse yet, nightmares. He imagined the evil creatures, sneaking through the dark corridors in search of him and Harry. And that wasn't the worst of it.

Just getting to sleep required getting rid of the image of Hermione, ice cold, lying on a bed in the Hospital Wing. He wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight. Unless….

A hand, slowly, timidly, reached into Harry's bag, and softly as it could, pulling the Invisibility Cloak clear from it. Harry stirred in his sleep, but continued, free of the nightmares that were plaguing Ron. The hand was withdrawn from sight as its owner stealthily marched down the stairs and along the darkened corridors of Hogwarts, hidden from view.

...

Hermione, like Ron, was unable to sleep. Even while petrified, she could still hear as clearly as if she was fully conscious. She could also feel the surface she was lying on. Soft, warm, and relaxing. But sleep could not come to her. Her eyeballs, still frozen open but unseeing, were growing incredibly sore, and the thought of not being able to tell anyone the lethal threat frustrated her. If only Harry had checked her other hand! Also, couldn't McGonagall have given Harry and Ron just ten minutes more with her? She desperately craved being able at least to hear their voices again. Her sluggish heart rate jumped as the sound of a door being slowly and stealthily pulled open reached her.

The panicked thought rushed through her. It was the Basilisk, coming to finish her off!

But the sliding open of the door gave way to hushed footsteps. Was it the Heir of Slytherin, then?

The thought didn't even cross her mind that it was someone who wanted to see her. She was after all the bookworm, the know-it-all, with buck teeth, and uncontrollable hair to boot. Who would want to see her in the early hours of the morning, risking expulsion if caught?

The footsteps neared her bed, and stopped, as whoever it was, kneeled down beside her pillow, and softly grasped her hand.

"I haven't been able to sleep, so I had no choice but to come down here. Even my appetite's gone," said a melancholy, oddly familiar male voice. _Ron_, she realised, with a burst of happiness.

"When I saw you lying there, I felt so guilty. I should have known you weren't safe from whatever was haunting the school. You could so easily have….." Ron faded, and Hermione suspected she heard a muffled sob. A feeling of bliss was now sweeping through her body. Friendship was, in some ways still a novelty for her, and she was genuinely touched that at least one of the boys was affected enough to sneak in to see her...even if it was _completely _reckless.

"I know I don't say this often enough…well at all, but you and Harry are the two best things that ever happened to me at Hogwarts," Ron continued, blowing his nose. "And I can't forgive myself for doing nothing to help….."

If Hermione could, she would have raised her eyebrows. Why was Ron being so….protective of her? It simply didn't make sense why Ron, good friend that he admittedly was, would sneak out of bed, and risk expulsion...no, even worse, the Basilisk…to see her, alone. Ron continued his monologue, unaware that Hermione, feeling the most contented she'd been in ages, was listening to his every word.

"Anyway, I just needed to see you. I needed to after Harry and I went to see Hagrid. He was arrested by Cornelius Fudge, and Dumbledore's gone too. Lucius Malfoy and the Board sacked him as Headmaster."

_Oh no_, Hermione thought. But there was more.

"At Hagrid's advice, we went into the Forbidden Forest to see a charming ex pet of his, who told us he was innocent. Then…..bloody huge spiders…"

Ron broke off, his warm, soft hand trembling on Hermione's stone cold one, before recommencing his story with the full details. She was shocked for the second time that night. Ron had faced his worst phobia, and risked getting killed along with Harry, simply to hear the truth about what really happened fifty years ago. She wanted nothing more at that moment but to scold him for sneaking in at night - _What if the Basilisk is on the loose tonight?_, but she couldn't. She no longer cared that she was petrified. Someone had visited her, and that was all that mattered right now.

Ron continued for ten minutes, before finally stopping with a sigh. His head fell sideways onto Hermione's pillow, still hidden by the cloak, and began to snore. He didn't leave the Hospital Wing until dawn was beginning to break, sneaking back into the dormitory where Harry was still asleep. He stuffed the Cloak back where he found it, but the rustle woke Harry.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled blearily.

"Had a snooze down in the Common Room," Ron lied. "Less claustrophobic and didn't get nightmares down there." He climbed into bed and slept soundly for another two hours, this time unaffected by nightmares. The Hospital Wing visit had done the trick.

But Harry noticed something just before breakfast that didn't quite back up Ron's story. The Invisibility Cloak was no longer in his bag, but instead lying clumsily on top of it.

Sprung.

_May 28__th_

Ginny's final lesson had finished, and she had decided she had to confess to someone, even if they were petrified and couldn't hear her ….

She arrived outside the Hospital Wing doors. She knocked. Madam Pomfrey ran over, opening the door marginally to stare at who was there.

"Oh, Miss Weasley. I'm afraid I can't let you in. Awfully sorry, there's a risk that with Dumbledore gone, someone might have another crack at these poor students."

But Ginny pleaded.

"I need to see Hermione, just for a few minutes. Professor McGonagall gave me permission," she added, holding up a form.

Madam Pomfrey sighed, giving Ginny a small sympathetic smile as she relented, opening the door for her, before bustling back into her office. Ginny walked in, looking left, right and behind her nervously, checking that she wasn't bringing the Monster of Slytherin in with her. Thankfully, that was impossible, as the diary was now tucked safely in her suitcase, unopened since the morning of May 8th. How she regretted opening that diary to threaten Tom after stealing it. He had nabbed her right in the middle of breakfast, and turned her yet again into a zombie.

What actually had happened each time there was an attack? Ginny pondered that, before noticing a small cage beside the nearest bed to her. She opened the flap….

…to reveal Mrs. Norris, eyes still wide open, and her back frozen in an arch as she trembled at the menacing reflection of the Serpent of Slytherin. That's what it was….a giant snake! She remembered it from somewhere…

In a flash, heart pounding, Ginny fell into a flashback. Halloween felt like years ago…

_Ginny was walking down to the feast that evening, alone again, except for Ron and Hermione, the former on his way to the Trophy Room for his detention. Fred and George had decided to instead stay behind and plan pranks in the Gryffindor Common Room, with presumably her and Ron as the victims. Her heart was pounding at the thought of seeing Harry, and she prayed that she wouldn't lose her head again, like she always did. Disappointment flooded her when Hermione told her gently, as if already suspecting her emotions, that Harry was in detention too. She was going to write to Tom about the wonderful Halloween Feast, as Ron told her that _live bats_ would be flying about in the Great Hall tonight. Both said to her that they hoped this Halloween would be less eventful than last year's, when Professor Quirrel had let in a troll to attack Harry, but instead it ambushed Hermione in the girls' toilets. That was when the feeling of sickness began to overwhelm her..._

"_Bathroom," she muttered, running back along the corridor, Tom Riddle's diary still in hand, leaving a shocked Ron and Hermione behind…_

_Then…she was a hundred metres further along the corridor, her hand dipped in blood-red paint, finishing a threatening message on the corridor wall. Had she created the paint out of thin air? It was odd, she didn't know any Transfiguration or advanced magic yet. Then…she was leaning over a sink...hissing something…And heard a response, echoing up to her from dozens of metres below._

'_Blood!'_

_Then…she was outside the Great Hall. She thought she could vaguely hear a hissing voice from the floor above, but the roar of students eating drowned out its words._

_Then, she was rushing up the stairs towards the First Floor, moving at terrific speed. She thought for a split second she saw a scaled tail whip out of sight further down the corridor…_

_Now running, she was in a flash before a still, dark-haired form lying sideways, still eyeing scorch marks seared into the stonework in front of it. Without her thinking, the cat was suddenly on the torch bracket, looking for almost all the world dead._

_Footsteps behind her…._

_She ran… to come to in another bathroom on the Third Floor, washing her hands of the disgusting red paint that had somehow gotten onto her._

With another jolt, Ginny realised that just after she'd written in Tom Riddle's diary the day before Mrs. Norris was attacked, she'd fainted in a cold, wet bathroom on the way to the Great Hall, only to find herself in a dimly lit, greenish chamber, then

'_Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.'_

She'd woken up again in the bathroom, a bespectacled ghost of a girl staring at her from barely a metre away. She'd screamed and ran back to the Great Hall. She remembered it vividly. She moved to the next bed, its sheets drawn, and pulled them apart to reveal….

Colin Creevey, hands frozen in front of him, and shock visible on his face.

Ginny, stifling a scream, tried to recall desperately what had happened that night…

_**Dear Tom**_, _Ginny wrote._

_**It was absolutely terrible today! That Colin Creevey kid in my year wouldn't stop taking pictures today. He's so insensitive- Harry was injured during Quidditch by a Rogue Bludger which broke his arm!**_

_My, my, this is not good__. Tom wrote back_. _You mean that annoying Mud- sorry- Muggleborn was that insensitive to Harry? Someone needs to deal to him because of that. What's he doing now?_

_Ginny, not even noticing Tom's falter, responded, writing furiously._

_**In detention with Professor Snape right now, then he's thinking of heading to the Hospital Wing to see Harry. Anyway, to make things worse, Professor Lockhart tried to fix Harry's arm, and he removed all the bones in his body! What's an idiot like that doing teaching Defence?**_

_Some things change for worse, I guess. The Professor that taught Defence when I was here was Galatea Merrythought. Old and irritable, she'd been in the job for nearly fifty years. At least she knew her craft, unlike this Professor Lockhart that you talk about. I tried to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job when I graduated, but I was turned down, twice._

_**Oh no! I can't believe that happened to you! Why didn't they employ you?**_

_I can go into that another time, but it was during the attacks last time that Professor Merrythought decided to retire. Anyway, I decided I'd return to Hogwarts by another method…_

Ginny suddenly felt exhausted without knowing why. She slumped sideways onto her bed, the diary still open. Tom's words were still visible, and not fading away like they usually did…

_Footsteps. They were her own. Ginny, yet again in one of her sleepwalks, had just walked past the Hospital Wing entrance. What was she doing not going in to see Harry? What was she waiting for?_

_Then, a bloodthirsty hiss from behind her, hidden in the dark._

'_Kill….Sooo hungry….'_

_More footsteps. Ginny shrank back into the shadows as she saw, from far away, a student approaching her. He was making as little noise as possible. Barely visible in the dark, he seemed to have mousy locks, and was carrying something familiar-looking in his arms…_

_The bloodthirsty chant rose to a crescendo._

'_Time….to kill. KILLLL…..'_

_A vibration from the wall beside her….a pop from somewhere in the darkness ahead of her, and slithering. The voice died away, silently closing in for the kill. Suddenly, a flash of light, briefly illuminating a gigantic, dark shape on the floor in front of her. It was followed by a sound similar to a block of falling concrete making contact with the ground…_

_Then she felt her mouth move, barely making a whisper. _

"_Leave the boy. Your job is done!"_

_As if on roller skates, she fled the scene, emitting a high, cold laugh that wasn't hers…._

…_To wake up fully conscious outside the Fat Lady's portrait, noticing that her feet were sore and filthy. What had she been doing all this time?_

"_Wattlebird," she gasped at the snoring portrait._

Ginny knew perfectly well who the next two beds contained: Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick. Oddly enough, the memory for what happened that day was easier to retrieve, as if she'd begun to subconsciously fight off Tom.

_Yet again, Ginny was writing in Tom Riddle's diary, telling Tom what had happened the previous day. Harry's Parseltongue abilities and her horror of realising that by understanding Harry's dialogue with the angry snake, she was a Parselmouth, were all mentioned. Tom had reassured her:_

_Don't worry Ginny. Parseltongue is not an evil skill, contrary to most people's views. Personally, I find it useful every now and then._

_**But still, it was so scary realising that I could talk to snakes! And I'm still furious that that stupid Hufflepuff Muggleborn thought Harry was attacking him! He doesn't care about wizarding blood!**_

_Sadly, some still do care Ginny. It was a very common prejudice when I was at Hogwarts. What's this Hufflepuff's name? You sound like you really want him out of the way, the way you've been ranting about him to me._

_**Justin Finch-Fletchley. He fled upstairs to his dormitory right afterwards. He's so scared Harry will attack him he's unlikely to come to class, I heard his friend Ernie say that. **_

_Well, when it's proven that Harry wasn't behind the attacks, everyone will laugh at him for being so silly, I can guarantee that._

Ginny realised with a shock of horror she'd revealed everything about Justin to Tom Riddle, and the same for Colin Creevey before that. As for Mrs. Norris, the cat had landed her a detention the day before Halloween because she'd spotted Ginny looking peaky and hovering by the First Floor corridor, and that had made it into her diary too. Then again, so had Filch and Colin. Was Mrs. Norris simply collateral damage? Also, Ginny realised, she'd begun writing about Muggleborn students scathingly, and she hadn't even noticed. She pulled her mind back to the conversation with Tom from the morning of December 18th.

_**You mean Hagrid, don't you? I still can't quite believe that. Hagrid is too nice to do such a thing!**_

_Just like this diary, Hagrid holds many secrets. _

_Ginny's world dissolved as she lost consciousness again- it was becoming a recurring habit. And it happened right before each att.._

_Ginny blacked out, unable to finish the thought that had popped into her mind._

_Then, she was in front of Hagrid's Hut, kneeling down. She heard clucking from under her._

_Her hand grabbed something feathery, and suddenly heard a loud snap as the limp, feathery object fell from her grip. She risked a glance up at the cabin. Hagrid had his back turned at the time. She sprinted back up the hill towards the castle, diary in hand…._

_Then, she was in an oddly familiar bathroom, staring at a tap that didn't work. She felt something use her mouth to hiss 'open', and the sinks began to separate…_

_Ginny was now in an abandoned Sixth Floor corridor, close to a wall that was cracked, exposing a centuries-old water pipe, long since disused. With a thrill of horror, she heard an angry, demanding voice echoing through the dark pipe towards her._

'_Blood, I want blood!'_

_She shut her eyes as she heard a slithering sound coming closer to her, rapidly becoming thunderous as it echoed through the pipe._

_It gave way to a smooth rasp of scales on stone floor right in front of her, and the manic bloodthirsty chant gave way to a set of quiet hisses._

'_I smell him….Let me rip….tear.'_

_Ginny shook her head, realising at the same time she'd hissed out a command, fully in control for once._

"_Stop!"_

_The hissing stopped. Ginny opened her eyes a millimetre, noticing a silvery object gliding towards her, which then turned the corner._

_No sooner had this happened, and before Ginny could stop herself, her mouth opened, and she hissed out a second command, this one completely involuntarily._

"_Kill."_

_The creature in front of her- a gigantic snake, at least thirty feet of its body coiled in front of her, uncoiled and moved like a missile towards the footsteps coming closer and closer, its eyes shut for some bizarre reason. It reared off the floor and its head vanished around the next pillar as it struck out at its unsuspecting prey. The footsteps stopped, followed by an all-too familiar 'smack', as something heavy and immobile hit the floor, almost immediately followed by distant sounds of someone else coming closer- a student by the sounds of the light, padded footsteps. The snake, hearing them too, retreated back towards the pipe. As it passed her, Ginny shivered and shut her eyes as she fainted._

_She woke up barely seconds later. Hearing footsteps coming from both sides, she ran into the broken wall and huddled in the broken pipe, a distant scuffling sound fading away, a voice angrily hissing _

'_Where is my blood? Still sooo hungry…'_

_What had happened to her? She hadn't recalled a single thing over the last hour or so, except for flashes- hissing, the return of the murderous voice, and a glimpse of a snake…._

_The footsteps from her right had stopped. Someone had come across a horrific scene. She didn't know how she knew, but Ginny already was certain that Justin Finch-Fletchley had been attacked. Peering out, Ginny caught a glimpse of messy, jet black hair and glasses. Harry, glancing at a trail of water that had leaked out of the pipe Ginny was now hiding in._

_Had he heard the voice too? Ginny wanted to reveal herself and ask, but felt trapped- what if someone suspected her of involvement in- whatever had just happened?_

_Then, wheezy breath and shuffling as Argus Filch passed her hiding spot to find Harry, apparently alone at the scene of the crime._

_Ginny berated herself as she heard Harry get accused of attacking Justin by Filch. She stayed rooted to the spot as Filch left to find Professor McGonagall. In fact, she stayed rooted to the spot until Harry, Professor McGonagall and Filch had long left the scene. Cautiously, she re-emerged onto the corridor, risking a peek around the corner to see not one petrified victim, but two._

_Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick._

_Ginny could take no more. She fled the scene, sobbing what felt like a million litres of tears._

Ginny knew perfectly well what had happened the day Hermione was attacked. She could remember it vividly. She'd threatened to drop the diary into the Common Room fire unless Tom gave her some answers. Tom had responded

_My, my. You are learning the wonder of __**power.**__ You know, I need to borrow you just once more Ginny. As a punishment for you stealing the diary off Potter, I think it's time we said goodbye to your Mudblood friend, Miss Granger._

"_No!"_ _Ginny had whimpered out loud._

"_Oh yes. Just as a bonus, when you wake up this time around, you're going to witness the attack yourself, and know full well what you're doing. Let's see how Harry Potter reacts to losing a friend as well as his parents…" _

_An ice cold voice had spoken, not from the diary, but from inside her own head._

_She'd complied diligently to Tom's requests, acting as Tom's zombie, with the exception of the time when Hermione dashed into the Library. Ginny, eying her from further down the corridor, suddenly saw a grate close to Hermione's disappearing figure begin to quiver. _

_Wresting her mouth free of Tom's control she hissed, not caring if anyone could hear._

"_Not the Library! She's in the toilet two corridors away!"_

_The quivering ceased._

_Then the voice returned, throbbing in her temples._

"_You'll pay for that, Ginevra Molly Weasley."_

_The pages of the diary rustled as an invisible fist hit her in the chest, sending her flying backwards and knocking her out._

Ginny now remembered everything. Any thoughts of confessing to Hermione's still form about what she'd done was wiped out by a new feeling of steeliness. She now knew what she had to do tomorrow morning.

Tell Harry and Ron everything.

_May 29__th_

Evening brought with it a fresh breeze, and a brilliant sunset was shining through the Hospital Wing windows, bathing the petrified figures in a golden glow. However, this sunset, beautiful as it was, was being ignored by Madam Pomfrey.

She _hated_ being the Matron right now. All of the petrified victims were making virtually no breathing noises. Often, she'd run to each one, checking they hadn't actually died- it was deadly silent at night.

She opened the door to find an apprehensive-looking Harry, Ron standing beside him. Madam Pomfrey took the note from Harry's hand and sniffed to herself "Minerva's going soft in her old age, I see." She then looked at Harry, and shrugged apologetically.

"There's no point in talking to a petrified person. She won't hear a word you're saying."

Hermione, still lying rigid on the farthest bed on the left, would have snorted if she could when she heard that.

Ron stepped forward, clearing his throat nervously.

"We know that, Madam Pomfrey. It's just, well, you see, we thought, maybe, we could... be with her for a bit. She's our... friend, you see, and... even if she can't hear us... I mean, it can't hurt, can it?"

A glimmer of sympathy flickered in Madam Pomfrey's eyes.

"Very well. I'll give you ten minutes."

Unknown to everyone, for some unknown reason, Hermione felt excited. She couldn't put her finger on it, but somehow she thought that this time, Harry and Ron might just discover the piece of paper lying in her hand.

From her right, he she heard Ron sigh.

"Should have brought her catnip. That would have made her laugh when she wakes up."

Hermione heard Harry draw nearer to her left. _Go on_, she prayed silently. _In the left hand._

Harry tipped out the previous set of flowers and put the new lot in the vase, then sat down, regarding her still figure, and the mirror on her bedside table.

"Wish you were here Hermione. We need you…now more than ever." He glanced over at Ron, who had yet again slipped into a sorrowful mood, not even scornfully making a comment about Gilderoy Lockhart's get-well card.

Now Hermione was fervently thinking _Go on Harry. In my left hand. Find the piece of paper, and tell Professor McGonagall._

Harry reached out and touched her left hand, encountering very cold, stiff knuckles, and a corner of crinkled parchment. He looked more closely at the corner of parchment. No, it was a page, ripped from a library book; he could see the page number. He paused, quickly putting two and two together. If his friend had been so desperate as to deface a book, then she knew something very important about the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione must have been on her way to alert them when she and Penelope were attacked.

Taking immense care not to rip it, he began pulling the scrunched page clear of her fingers, and unfolded it.

"Ron," he breathed, excitement coursing through him. Ron looked up, his mind still a long way off. Harry brandished the page in front of him.

"This is why Hermione was in the Library the day she was attacked! Come on!"

As they left her bedside, Hermione was almost flipping with joy. Now Harry and Ron knew about the Basilisk as well. Soon, the entire school would know, and the entire ordeal would be over.

Sadly, Hermione was wrong. It wasn't yet over for Ginny.

**Yes, a very long chapter, and I couldn't resist putting in a quiet Ron/Hermione moment- fanfiction disease, no doubt :P. Next chapter is much shorter, as Ginny confronts her fate.**


	6. The abduction of Ginny Weasley

The Serpent of Slytherin

_Part Six: The abduction of Ginny Weasley_

_Earlier that day…._

Ginny left breakfast, running up to the Common Room, crying with shame that she'd chickened out on telling Harry and Ron because Percy had sat down beside them. That stupid, ignorant git! As if she'd be this timid simply telling everyone about Percy's girlfriend! No, she was just about to tell them everything- the diary, the attacks, the rooster killings, the scary voice. How she, a Gryffindor, assisted in finishing Salazar Slytherin's twisted work.

Now there was now only one option left open to her. Say goodbye to Tom Riddle once and for all, and hand in the diary to Professor McGonagall in the evening, but it would have to wait until after class. Ginny trembled as the thought of instant expulsion awaited her. But then she thought of her victims, still lying as if dead in the Hospital Wing. What if she had killed someone instead? What if Tom succeeded in overpowering her again, and this time, the victims were killed by that horrific snake she'd seen? No, better expulsion than that sort of horror.

Over the past few nights, she swore she heard vibrating issuing from her trunk where the diary lay hidden. It was as if Tom was trying to escape the bag, possess her again, and march her down to the Chamber of Secrets. But for what? This time, it was impossible to set loose that horrible snake onto any more students. Everyone was being escorted to and from their lessons, breakfast and dinner. Even toilet stops were forbidden, so Tom couldn't have her attack anyone else unless she set the snake onto the teacher first, and then committed mass murder- _no, stop that. Don't give him any ideas_, she thought.

Ginny was watching Professor McGonagall give Harry and Ron permission to leave class and head to the Hospital Wing. Tagging along at the back of her line to Herbology, no-one noticed Ginny slip away as Professor McGonagall turned away, blowing her nose as she proceeded towards her office. Ginny, diary in hand, followed at a safe distance, diary in hand.

Just before Professor McGonagall reached the office door, Ginny was about to open her mouth when Tom's voice returned, reverberating in her skull.

_Don't even think about it, you silly girl._

As had happened so many times before, Ginny lost all control of her legs, and arms. She tried calling out to Professor McGonagall, but all that came out was a single, tearful croak.

_Stop that, you stupid brat. Walk. NOW._

Ginny did just that, leaving the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower, and returning to the Entrance Hall, tears silently pouring down her cheeks. She knew what Tom was up to this time. This was a punishment. One that would result in death.

_You think you've been so clever, outsmarting the Heir of Slytherin, but that was foolish. You think you could outsmart the greatest sorcerer who lived? Those Mudbloods are meant to be rotting in the ground right now. Thanks to sheer dumb luck and your own insufferable stubbornness, they're still alive. What if they saw you? Even worse, you were going to inform Harry Potter of my real nature. These things I find unforgivable._

_Now, as punishment, you're heading down into the Chamber of Secrets. Permanently. If Potter finds you, and I do hope he will, there won't be much left._

Ginny shuddered as she ascended the stairs, moving towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

_Oh yes Ginny. My pet Basilisk is getting hungry, and sadly, she didn't even get a nibble of those Mudbloods. There is always you, however._ The voice faded with a cackle of high-pitched laughter. Ginny almost vomited in disgust. How could she have been so stupid? Tom had been giving away hints of his true brutality all year, and she'd failed to pick up on them.

She felt Tom raise and flick her wand arm, and a pot of scarlet paint appeared on the floor.

_Now, write…._

_..._

Ginny had now entered Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but Tom was determined to spook her with stories of how he attacked several students while in his sixth year, as she opened the sink.

_My first attack was November 11th. A second-year Hufflepuff Mudblood- much like Mr. Finch Fletchley. He was a Chaser, and assisted in defeating Slytherin in a game for the first time since I had arrived. Naturally, I was annoyed, and I knew how to get my revenge. He was attacked on the Third Floor, alone, coming out of a toilet. It was very close to where you attacked Miss Granger. A lucky coincidence- he saw its reflection on a suit of armour a second before the Basilisk could sink its teeth into him._

_Next attack was a fifth-year Gryffindor girl in this very bathroom, on the final day of classes. My Christmas present to the students. I had already opened the pipe on the other side, and left. She was lucky as well- she only saw the reflection in the cracked basin mirror._

_Next was a triple attack on Christmas Eve, right beside the Hospital Wing. Two Ravenclaw boys, both Blood Traitors, and their friend, a Mudblood. Sadly, a leak sprung in the wall five minutes before the Basilisk attacked. The Mudblood saw the reflection as the Basilisk burst through a tapestry ahead of her. The two boys turned away and saw its reflection on a window as they tried to flee the scene._

_Then Valentine's Day. I never understood __love__. Such a __weakness__. Therefore, I was busy doing Slytherin's work while everyone was exchanging valentines. Same corridor as the previous attack. A first-year Gryffindor saw the Basilisk through a tiny crack in the wall out of the corner of his eye. It's just as well for him. If he'd turned a second earlier, he'd have died._

_I then halted the attacks, knowing that Dumbledore had seen me on that corridor alone minutes before the last attack. But it was soon time to resume._

_On June 11__th__, another attack. I set the Basilisk on a Gryffindor Prefect. He thought he could catch the Heir of Slytherin singlehandedly while out on patrol for the Monster that night. The attempt at killing him failed when he saw the Basilisk through his invisibility cloak- but the snake could still smell him, hence the reason he was attacked. He wasn't found until a miserable student called Myrtle tripped over him the next morning, and caught me staring at the scene suspiciously. I thought she might put two and two together and tell Dumbledore, so I killed her the next day when she was having a cry in that cubicle just there…._

As Ginny trembled and began to cry again, Tom stopped her_. _

_No need to cry Ginny. She wasn't much of a loss. Besides, I actually did a favour for her- she's much happier as a ghost. _

Wiping her eyes, Ginny heard Myrtle gurgling in the U bend of her toilet. She then heard Tom's voice, urgently this time.

_Quick. Into the pipe. Seal it behind you._

Even as Ginny fell into the dark void, she hissed a command, and the sinks moved back into place above her.

She was trapped inside the Chamber.

Myrtle surfaced from her toilet, staring around the bathroom to find- nothing.

Two hours later, Harry Ron and Lockhart would burst in, surprising her. It was stupid how no-one until Harry asked her how she died- even Headmaster Dippet and Professor Dumbledore didn't enter the bathroom after her death.

...

Ginny had entered the Chamber itself, her feet guiding her towards the base of an enormous statue, surrounded by a deep puddle of water flowing through the walls. Salazar Slytherin, she realized, with a twinge of horror.

What was worse was having to pass those snake-like statues. Ginny hated snakes ever since she was a baby, and these statues seemed so….alive. Was the Basilisk, whatever sort of horrifying snake that was, hiding behind one?

Tom's voice penetrated her mind again.

_Relax, Ginny. It won't come until it's called. Besides, I need to drain you first, like a venomous spider does with its prey. Only then can I live…forever._

What was he talking about, anyway? Just like the day before, a new feeling of steeliness came into her, combined with a new sear of anger and hatred for the dark object she was carrying. Whatever horrible fate Tom had in mind for her, she would face it bravely, as a true Gryffindor would. She would not give Tom the satisfaction of begging for mercy. Just like Harry would, she thought dreamily.

At this, her body was hers again. Tom had left her body. But then she heard his voice again.

_Pathetic. I'll tell you what love-_ he almost spat out the word- _does. It rots people. Makes them vulnerable. Turns them into cry-babies. Enough of your syrupy rubbish- I've tolerated it all year. This is my moment. Lie down._

"No!" Ginny shouted out suddenly, the shout echoing around the dark green cavern.

_Do it, or this will hurt even more._

Ginny refused, but felt a sudden gust of wind snatch the diary out of her hand. It fell to the floor. Ginny turned, and prepared to run.

Then, a second gust of wind blew the diary open, finally settling open on a page marked by black ink 'June 13th'. The pages began to glow orange, and Ginny felt a pain in her chest as a pinprick of blinding light blasted its way through the page, making a ferocious sizzling sound as it widened.

The pain in her chest grew. Sinking to her knees for support, she could only watch in horror as the light intensified, filling the whole Chamber. Then… a mass of black hair appeared, followed by a pale, handsome face, then a set of school robes, all partially transparent, but not at all ghost-like.

As more of Tom Riddle emerged from the pages, the pain in Ginny's chest became excruciating. The glare of the light was so bright, her eyes were being burned out of the sockets. _Let this end_, she prayed.

At that very moment, Ginny Weasley hit the wet stone floor of the Chamber, and passed out.

...

Ginny came to, and gasped with horror as she looked into the eyes of Tom Riddle, viewing her as if a snake might a rodent, with an evil glint in his eyes and a grin on his face.

"You!" she gasped.

"Yes, me, Ginny. I'm very sorry that had to happen to you. But, I suppose, that's what happens when you have to rely on a stubborn Gryffindor Blood Traitor like yourself."

Ginny's eyes moved towards her wand, still hidden in her pocket, but Tom interrupted her.

"Don't even bother. I'm a memory, what could hurt me? At least, I'm _currently_ a memory." Ginny regarded him, and noticed something strange. Tom was becoming more solid, while her hand was draining of blood to become as pale as the hands of her petrified victims.

_Tom's_ petrified victims, she reminded herself.

"How did I do this to everyone?" she asked shakily, her voice trembling with anger.

"Quite easy. You relayed information to me about the Mudbloods of Hogwarts, along with about a million pieces of fluff about that Harry Potter." He spat the name out, as if it was affiliated with a bad memory.

"So it was quite easy. As you poured more of yourself into me, I poured some of my skills into you. My ability to speak Parseltongue. My ability to control the Serpent of Slytherin- the Basilisk. I'm sure you know now, Ginny, how it works? Get it to look into people's eyes, and it kills them. Sadly, it's an unreliable weapon, as I found out fifty years ago, and in the last year.

"Initially, you were wonderful, Ginny. But then you started to fight back- it was unbelievable to witness. It's partially because of this that all of your victims are alive and well, and about to be revived by Mandrake juice."

"_My_ victims?" Ginny choked. "You're lying, Tom! Never in a million years would I attack Hermione! Or Justin, or Colin, or Penelope. Not even Mrs. Norris." She shivered as she lost some of her energy and sank back to her knees.

"True," Tom sneered. "But you were absolutely helpless nevertheless. Did your Blood Traitor father never tell you to not trust strangers? Or to never trust anything that doesn't show where it keeps its brain? Pity, you could still have lived."

"What about the people you made me attack?"

"Ah, yes." Tom frowned, twiddling his thumbs as he recounted the attacks. "Poor old Colin. Never would have thought a useless Muggle contraption could do any good against a Basilisk, but I guess I was wrong.

"Now, Justin. That Mudblood should be dead. If only that damn ghost didn't get in the way. Even worse, your sudden rebellious episode gave the ghost enough time to shield him."

"What about Hermione?" Ginny hissed, clenching her hands into fists even as she lost all feeling in them.

"Once again, just like with Justin, you proved unreliable. Sadly, my attempt to kill her came unstuck- occupational hazard when chasing a bookworm with a few tricks up her sleeve. Penelope- well- she was collateral. Though she would have died too if it wasn't for that smartarse Mudblood getting to her before the Basilisk did.

"Not that it matters of course. I knew that Harry Potter would turn every stone over to find how this all started once his best friend was attacked- dead or not. It was exactly what I wanted."

"How did it start?" Ginny demanded, shocked at how much her voice had faded since the last time she spoke. "Why me? How did you find me?"

"I don't know how I came to be in your possession, Ginny. I'm just a diary after all." Tom laughed, a high, cold laugh that made her hair stand on end. "What I do know is that a certain Harry Potter will be arriving soon."

"What?" Ginny asked, a ray of hope suddenly piercing her as she lay on the filthy floor, her vision fading by the second.

"Oh yes. I know Harry Potter's weakness for heroics. We have a certain….history…with each other. Now Ginny, I will be having a little chat with him about what you've been doing to those poor Muggleborns, including a close friend of his. I daresay your hopes of anything eventuating from your silly schoolgirl crush will be completely dashed- he won't be happy at all."

"You're lying!" she tried to shout, but it was more like a croak. "I stole the diary off him before anything happened to him!"

"Oh, no I'm not, foolish girl. He took the bait, and I reeled him in. He was even easier to convince than you. The good news is that whatever happens next does not concern you."

Ginny suddenly slumped to the floor, unable to even move her neck an inch upwards. Her eyelids were now so heavy….

"Goodbye Ginny," came Tom's voice, echoing faintly from somewhere far above her. "It was nice writing to you." It ended with an inhuman cackle of high-pitched laughter as her vision faded to zero.

Ginny felt unconsciousness grip her, and she knew this time it would be permanent. Just before she was pulled under, one frantic, desperate thought entered her mind.

_It's okay. Harry will come..._

Meanwhile, the Basilisk stirred in its sleep inside Slytherin's statue, blissfully unaware that the next time it slithered out would also be its last.

**I modify the next scene, so that it's consistent with Harry detecting horcruxes in the final two films. It was actually a pretty darn good idea, so here it is. Also, my totally insincere apologies for using the ending from the film :P Hope you've enjoyed the story so far, and please review. **


	7. The slaying of the Serpent

The Serpent of Slytherin

_Part Seven: The Slaying of the Serpent_

_Three hours later:_

Tom Riddle watched on with interest as Harry pulled out the Sword of Gryffindor, and pointed it at the giant, blinded Basilisk uncoiling to attack. Clearly Dumbledore's minion had a few tricks up his sleeve- that songbird certainly saved him from being munched earlier, but he must be insane if he really thought if a one metre sword could save him from a thirty metre snake thirsty for blood. He laughed mercilessly as Harry ran through the puddle, attracting the Basilisk's attention and scrambling desperately up the statue to save himself. The snake, following the splashes, slid after him into place to strike. The endgame had begun.

Riddle jeered at the vulnerable boy as he narrowly dodged each strike by inches, the Basilisk becoming increasingly infuriated as its jaws kept on slamming into stone instead of flesh. Meanwhile, Harry kept climbing, finally reaching the bald stone head of Slytherin. Desperately, he began a series of wild, uncoordinated uppercuts, his legs threatening to give way on him as the Basilisk hissed at him from barely a metre away, dousing him with its putrid breath.

One final desperate swing by Harry, and he lost his balance and lay sprawling on the top of Slytherin's head, sweat covering his face.

"No!" he breathed desperately as Gryffindor's Sword, teetering on the edge, began to slip. The Chamber was filled with the echo of Riddle's evil laugh as the snake closed in for the kill, its aim perfect this time. Harry was snake meat. Clinging on with every last muscle in his body, Harry's fumbling fingers finally grabbed the sliding hilt, just as the Basilisk closed the final ten feet between itself and Harry, its massive teeth separating to swallow Harry whole.

It struck as Harry, whipping around, forced the sword into the dark gaping maw. The resulting blow drove the sword up to the hilt through the Basilisk's upper jaw, through its brain, and piercing through the top of its suddenly bloodied head.

Riddle's laughter gave way to an inhuman scream of rage, lost to Harry's ears as the Basilisk let out a deafening shriek of pain. Harry, his face scrunched in protest against the barrage of noise, held the sword in place for as long as he could, his right arm perilously close to the long, poisonous fangs.

The Basilisk writhed away from the source of the pain, still shrieking eerily and dislodging the sword of Gryffindor from its head. Harry's hand slipped, and as he did so, he felt a blinding surge of agony in his upper right arm. Noticing the fang pumping its poison into his veins, he yanked it out, far too late to stop the poison.

The Basilisk seemed to take an age to fall, as it continued shrieking and twitching violently. It turned, and Riddle could see the damage- the tiny, circular wound in the top of its head.

Harry, already fighting to stay upright, watched as the Basilisk retreated back into the refreshing coolness of the pool, drawing level with Slytherin's eyes as if apologising to its original master, then with a final shriek, it fell with a sickening smack. Salazar Slytherin's Serpent had finally ceased to exist.

Riddle looked at the now motionless snake, his pupils dilating with anger. But then he looked up, and a triumphant smirk crossed his face. It didn't matter if the snake was dead.

Because Harry Potter, weaving drunkenly across the floor towards him and blinded in pain, was mortally wounded.

...

Harry, his vision fading by the second, passed the fallen, bloodied snake's head, bloody sword in one hand, and clutching the Basilisk fang that had just ended his life in another.

Three metres from Ginny, he fell to his knees with a weak cry, crawling across the wet floor towards her. Ginny was now paler than ever. Even the tell-tale movement of her chest was now invisible.

He looked up at the dark shadow leaning over him gloatingly. Except that Riddle was no longer a shadow. He was now almost completely solid, the pale cheekbones beginning to exhibit colour, the dark eyes glowing vaguely scarlet.

And what was that sound? It was a faint keening, becoming louder with every second as his scar began to prickle. From a mile away, he heard Riddle's gloating, victorious voice

"Remarkable isn't it? How quickly the venom of the Basilisk penetrates the body. I guess you have little more than a minute to live." Harry made eye contact, glaring cross-eyed at him as more of his energy faded. Riddle looked at him mercilessly, as if Harry were a lab rat he was experimenting on.

"You'll be with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry."

Harry dropped his gaze, looking around for the source of the now shrill noise. Behind him, he saw Ginny, just like him, doomed to die alone in the Chamber. Her eyes were closed, looking completely peaceful with her arms wrapped protectively around herself. Harry reached out and touched Ginny's frigid hand, even colder than Hermione's. Could he still feel a weak, irregular pulse in her wrist? It was too late for her in any case, just like with him.

The noise increased. It was now vibrating inside Harry's eardrums, slowly consuming him. He looked down at the little black diary, the cause of so much misery this year. He held it loosely, his grip fading with every second. Was the diary _vibrating_, almost with excitement, and beginning to warm up? The unbearable keening was definitely coming from the diary, all right.

Riddle had spotted his grip on the diary. He smirked, his eyes now most definitely turning scarlet. Harry had seen those eyes once before, and they could mean only one thing. Lord Voldemort was about to return any second now.

"Funny, the damage a silly little book can do, _especially_ in the hands of a _silly little girl,_" Riddle mocked, his eyes staring wide.

Harry, seized by a sudden, desperate idea, grabbed the diary, slipping it free from Ginny's dead grip.

"What are you doing?" Riddle asked coldly, eyeing Harry as he raised the Basilisk fang above the book, a surprisingly vindictive look on his face.

Riddle lunged forward, his hands closing on Harry's Phoenix wand.

"Stop, NO!"

Harry's hand fell, plunging the fang deep into the open page with what little strength he had left. The fang sank in as the page began squirting masses of ink.

Riddle was just inches from Harry, his hands outstretched, when a hiss erupted, not from the dead Basilisk, but from his own chest.

A bright, blinding light suddenly appeared over Riddle's heart, widening and cutting through his body like a blowtorch as its force made him stumble backwards. Harry, encouraged by this result, left the fang in the book, pumping masses of Basilisk venom into the evil object.

Wracked by a spasm, Riddle let out an inhuman, animal roar of rage no ordinary sixteen-year old could produce. Harry yanked the Basilisk fang out of the book as the weakened Riddle lunged towards Harry, still roaring.

Alarmed, Harry turned to sink the fang back into the diary. Riddle's roar continued, his face now glowing as his chest took on the colour of burned parchment. Harry pulled the fang out again, as Riddle's face began to disintegrate, clutching his hand to it in fear.

He stumbled away blindly, still roaring in rage, his plans ruined by a twelve-year old boy.

Harry closed the book that had done so much destruction and gave it the dirtiest look he could. _This is for my parents_, he thought, before plunging the fang through its cover with renewed vigour. He noticed Ginny was now twitching, seemingly regaining energy with each passing second.

With a final yell of fright, Riddle threw his hands apart as yellow sparks erupted from his chest, the yellow now consuming him, tearing his Hogwarts robes, destroying his right arm, before he finally detonated with a thunderous boom, scattering golden sparks and dust across the Chamber.

...

Ginny slowly felt all inputs come back to her. Was she dead? It didn't make sense; why was she all of a sudden so warm, and could feel what she was lying on? With a great effort, she opened her eyelids, just in time to see Tom Riddle disintegrate violently. Gasping with fright, she forced herself into a kneeling position as someone spoke behind her.

"Ginny."

She turned to face…_Harry_, looking utterly exhausted, with sweat and grime coating every inch of his body. He appeared to be grimacing in pain and was clutching his right arm limply, but he was smiling.

How had he done it? But then, she remembered the petrified victims, far upstairs, the diary, the nightmares, everything, and was overwhelmed by a sickening surge of remorse, tears beginning to fall.

"Harry. It was me! But I swear, Riddle made me…I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-_couldn't_ say it in front of Percy….How _did_ you kill that…that thing? And where's Riddle? The last thing I remember is him coming out of the diary! And," she gasped. "Harry, you're hurt!"

Harry promptly covered the ugly wound with his left hand. He swayed violently, but he couldn't let go just yet, he thought as he stared at her.

"Ginny, you need to get yourself out. Follow the Chamber, and you'll find Ron."

He was interrupted from thinking of which euphemism to use to say he was dying by a shrill cry.

Fawkes. The beautiful gold and scarlet bird landed gracefully beside them, Ginny staring at it with wonder.

"You were brilliant Fawkes," Harry told the Phoenix with a wistful smile as he glanced at his wound. "I just wasn't quick enough."

The bird let out a croak as it leant over Harry's ripped sleeve, tears filling its eyes.

_Drip, drip, drip._ They fell on the wound, making it smoke and sting painfully, but the intense throbbing through his body began to fade. Only a small patch of blood now remained on the wound.

One final tear fell from Fawkes' eye, and the wound closed altogether.

"Of course." Harry straightened up. How could he be so stupid- "Phoenix tears have healing powers. Thanks," he grinned at the bird before turning to Ginny, smiling properly for the first time in ages.

"It's all right Ginny. It's over. It's just a memory."

Despite herself, Ginny allowed a small, wan smile to sneak through too.

_May 30__th_

Ginny had spent the last few hours in a daze, relieved of a substantial burden for the first time during her first year at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's words still rang in her ears, along with shock at who she'd actually faced in the Chamber of Secrets.

"_There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort."_

Ginny had been almost crushed by her mother as she embraced her, and had gazed in awe as Harry began his story, addressing Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall in the latter's office. The story was punctuated by the distinctive sound of Ron making short order of Professor McGonagall's biscuits.

"You remember when I didn't give a complete answer to you on Halloween and the day Justin was attacked?" Both nodded gravely.

"Well, it was because I was hearing a voice in the walls. Being a Parselmouth, only I could hear it. That's what Hermione found out the day she was attacked. The monster was a Basilisk."

"A Basilisk?" gasped Professor McGonagall in horror- never in a million years would she imagine such a horrific creature was stalking her students. "But…but how did Miss Granger and the others survive it?"

Fresh tears welled up in Ginny's eyes as Harry and Ron explained each attack in full, and how they had followed Hagrid's tip to see Aragog.

"Then," Harry paused, looking at Ron. "After almost being eaten alive, we went to bed."

Thankfully, only Harry saw Ron suddenly flush vivid scarlet.

"So with Aragog's knowledge, we were stuck until we came to see Hermione tonight." Harry paused, then withdrew the precious piece of paper from his pocket, and handed it to Professor McGonagall. "This was in her hand. Ron and I then put two and two together, realising the entrance to the Chamber must be Myrtle's Bathroom, so we were on our way to alert you when we heard Ginny had been abducted. Naturally our plans changed, and our hunch was right. Myrtle was a victim of the Basilisk, and I spoke Parseltogue to enter the Chamber."

"Very well," Professor McGonagall paused, still trying to control her heart rate and reprimanding Harry and Ron for excessive breaking of school rules. "…but how on _earth_ did you get out of there alive, Potter?"

After Ginny had been carted off to the Hospital Wing for a morale-boosting hot chocolate, Fred, George and Percy had also been hurried out of bed, white-faced and shaking. However, their faces lit up as they saw Ginny, still tremulous and pale, but very much alive. The Twins, looking the guiltiest they had ever been, had apologised profusely for their teasing treatment of her all year. George had spoken first, sounding uncharacteristically hoarse. However, they reassured Ginny that pranks would still be conducted on Ron and Percy frequently, earning an indignant "Oi, I'm a Prefect!" from Percy. She laughed, a natural sound that for the first time in weeks had nothing to do with Tom's control.

At this point, surrounded by her brothers and parents, Ginny realized that Tom was wrong. Love did not make individuals weak. It strengthened them, and she knew that with the support of her family, this horrible year could finally be put behind her. However, there was still some work to do.

_That evening…_ *

Hermione was still lying motionless, letting herself slip into a fitful slumber- the closest you could ever get to proper sleep when your eyeballs were frozen open. Surely Harry and Ron had alerted McGonagall by now.

Hermione didn't even keep track of time passing anymore, and thus didn't react as two sets of footsteps approached her bed.

From a great distance, she heard Madam Pomfrey address the other pair of feet beside her.

"Right then Miss Weasley. You can do the honours."

_Ginny_, Hermione realised, as Ginny clumsily poured the vilest drink Hermione had ever tasted down her throat. The Polyjuice Potion was like a chocolate milkshake compared to this gloop.

Then, gasps of air and dry retching as she suddenly leaned forwards, coughing her lungs out and fully conscious. She looked down. She was still wearing the same clothes she was petrified in. She looked left to see the mirror that had saved her and Penelope's life, and gave it an affectionate smile. She turned to see Madam Pomfrey and Ginny watching her, concern and relief breaking across their faces.

"Basilisk," she gasped, trying to hurry out of bed, but Madam Pomfrey had other ideas.

"Easy Miss Granger. Everyone knows, courtesy of the heroics of your two best friends. The Basilisk is dead. Why would even a twisted racist like Slytherin lock something like that up in a _school_?"

Tut-tutting, she turned to the other beds, doling out more of the Mandrake Juice to reawaken them. Ginny leaned forward. Was her face lined with _regret_ as well?

"I'm so sorry Hermione." She sniffed, leaning on her bed and breaking down completely and telling her everything. How Riddle had possessed her, how she'd written to him all year, and how Harry and Ron had saved her. Hermione was shocked. She'd always had suspicions about that diary, but never did she think it could ever be _that_ evil.

Her thoughts and Ginny's confession were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey's voice.

"Enough! Miss Weasley, do yourself a favour, and head to the Great Hall for the end-of-term feast."

"What?" Hermione cried out, throwing her bedcovers off her, and standing up, instantly regretting it as her legs turned to jelly after weeks of disuse.

"Ten more minutes," Madam Pomfrey told her. "That's an order. Unlike ghosts, humans need extra time to recover." Hermione turned to see Nick's bed empty.

Madam Pomfrey turned and tipped the Mandrake Juice down Justin's throat. He too awoke, spluttering, before yelling out with fear.

"Where's that ruddy snake? It was about to eat me!"

"Harry and Ron killed it," Hermione called out across the room. The panicked look on Justin's face was met by one of guilt.

"Dammit, I should have known. I'm heading down to apologise to Potter." He, like Hermione, pushed off the bedcovers, but was interrupted by a yell from the Matron.

"Just _where_ do you think you're going, Mr. Finch-Fletchley? Eat your chocolate first, or I shall call the Headmaster!" At this, Justin, like Hermione, buttoned up, and decided it was best to eat his chocolate in silence.

Next was Colin. He woke up, smiling as he spotted the new camera lying on his bedside table.

"Wonderful," he grinned.

"A Christmas present from your parents, Mr. Creevey. After what happened to you, what with your close shave with the Basilisk, I'm never going to complain about your camera again." Madam Pomfrey turned to Penelope as Colin shivered. Yes, he remembered it all too well. The explosion in front of his face as the camera fried itself. The painful fall backwards. And a slithering sound from somewhere nearby, initially approaching him but then fading away just before Dumbledore and McGonagall saw him.

"Did Harry kill it?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes," Hermione replied, smiling that her knowledge had finally ended this year of terror.

Colin pumped a fist in the air triumphantly. "I knew it!"

Penelope resurfaced, once again coughing before looking around at Madam Pomfrey and at Hermione, mouthing a "thank you" in the latter's direction, before standing up shakily.

"Thank you Madam Pomfrey. I might have been petrified, but I'm still a Prefect so I should go right now. Where is everybody?"

"The Great Hall," Madam Pomfrey told her.

"Thanks. I'm thinking of seeing Per-, I mean, I should be heading off." And she walked off.

At this, Madam Pomfrey finally decided enough was enough, and let the remaining patients go. Colin and Justin rushed off like meteorites towards the Great Hall, but Hermione paused.

"Just want to thank you for everything you've done for me and for us this year, Madam Pomfrey. Hopefully it'll get easier next year."

And with an enormous smile, she too rushed off in the direction of the Great Hall, hair flying behind her.

...

Harry and Ron had just begun tucking in. Harry was pleased to see that Ginny, who had entered the Great Hall still pale like a ghost, had begun to eat with gusto as if she'd never eaten before.

He turned round to see Nearly-Headless Nick drift his way down the Great Hall towards the entrance, as Justin came up to him, apologised profusely, and shook his hand.

"It was absolutely terrifying," he shivered. "I've already thanked Nick for being in the right place at the right time." Clearly he'd been informed of his narrow escape. "Good job killing it Harry. Where were you anyway?"

"Just around the corner," Harry said. "I was tracking it when…." An awkward glance at Ginny. No, he wouldn't say any more, for her sake.

"Anyway," Justin continued. "Next time you've got problems in Herbology, just let me know, okay?" He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder before re-joining the Hufflepuff table.

Colin Creevey was also here, chatting to anyone who'd listen about the attack and what it felt like to be petrified, and happily snapping proceedings with his new camera. Harry turned back towards the Entrance Hall. Filch had just been reunited with Mrs. Norris, and Percy was walking in tandem with Penelope Clearwater.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked, turning to Ron.

"Dunno. She should be here by now," Ron replied, looking slightly apprehensive.

They'd just become reabsorbed into the conversation, and Ron was recounting to the Twins and Seamus about how Lockhart's memory got wiped by his broken wand, when a call from Neville interrupted him.

"Harry! It's Hermione!"

Fred, George, Ginny, Dean, Seamus and surrounding Gryffindors turned towards the Entrance Hall.

Hermione had just arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall. She'd been away from her friends for far too long and wanted nothing more than to hug them for what they'd done. She only vaguely heard herself thank Nearly-Headless Nick for his greeting. She was too scanning the crowd at the Gryffindor Table. Finally, she saw Ron, seated in front of Harry, both deep in conversation just as Neville leaned over towards Harry.

She froze, an uncharacteristic grin breaking across her face. They had done it! They had saved not only Ginny, but the entire school!

Ron looked over towards her, and his mouth fell open slightly. _Bloody hell_, he thought. _Why is my stupid heart racing so much right now?_ Harry turned to spot her as well, an enormous smile breaking across his face.

_Stuff Madam Pomfrey's caution_. Hermione began to run, not caring that most of the school was watching her. Harry and Ron stepped out onto the adjacent aisle, grinning broadly as Hermione homed in on Harry like a supersonic heat-seeking missile. She launched herself into Harry's arms, nearly breaking a few of his ribs, before letting go. Next, Ron.

She froze, arm half-out, suddenly remembering Ron's early morning visit three weeks prior. Why was the atmosphere so different around Ron compared to Harry? Ron stopped too, and suddenly felt and looked very unsure of himself. "Ermm…" he stammered, refusing to look into her eyes and clearing his throat.

He stuck out his hand, and Hermione shook it. "Well….welcome back Hermione," he said, breathing a sigh of relief as the tips of his ears grew red. Neither noticed Harry, standing beside them and smirking to himself.

With all the petrified victims reunited with their friends, the feast could truly get underway. However, at three in the morning, there was an interruption as the doors burst open.

Hagrid was back. As he apologized to Dumbledore for being so late, Harry was struck by a small pang of guilt. He'd trusted the word of a diary over their friend. What to say?

Hagrid neared the Gryffindor table, beaming at the three of them, who returned the smiles.

"I jus' want to say... that if it wasn't for you, Harry, and Ron... and Hermione, of course... Well, I, I'd still be You Know Where, so I'd just like to say…thanks." He tailed off, seemingly succumbing to tears of joy.

Harry finally knew what to say. He stood up, blissfully unaware the entire Great Hall was listening in.

"There's no Hogwarts without you, Hagrid," he said, smiling at him. It was entirely true.

As Harry found himself wrapped into a bone-crushing hug and as almost the entire Great Hall, beginning with Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Ron and Hermione got to their feet and cheered, he felt overwhelmed. Many years later, he would consider it one of the happiest nights of his life.

So would Ron and Hermione.

**Hope you enjoyed this, and Happy New Year! I have more stories on the way shortly- a few oneshots, and some multi-chapter pieces. All will be canon-compliant.  
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